Leavenworth
by kazzasmiff
Summary: Jack is caught in an elaborate setup where his life is in danger


Leavenworth 

What had started as a nagging headache had evolved into a full blown migraine, causing him to retreat to his office where he could deal with it alone. Leaving the lights off, he lay down on the small cot tucked away in the corner, and closed his eyes in an attempt to ease the pain and nausea.

Jonas Quinn strolled along the corridor feeling rather pleased with himself. The majority of his day had been spent closeted in Major Carter's lab running tests on Naquadriah samples, from which they had received some favourable results. Sam was now discussing the experiments with her colleagues at Area 51 and he was on his way to catch up with Colonel O'Neill, who was scheduled to give him small arms weapons training.

Reaching the Colonel's office, he knocked smartly on the door.

The sound reverberated through Jack's skull, bringing him back to consciousness. Sitting up too quickly, he felt the bile bite at the back of his throat, and he scrambled from the bed - grabbing the waste bin in a desperate attempt not to throw up on the floor.

Assuming that the Colonel wasn't there when he didn't get an answer, Jonas was turning away from the door when he heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. Knowing O'Neill wouldn't want anyone to know he was being sick he decided to wait until things had calmed down a bit. But after five minutes, when it didn't appear as if they were going to, Jonas took a deep breath and entered the office.

Jack was slumped on the floor, his body shaking as the heaves racked through him. Jonas, whose only source of light came from the corridor behind him, struggled to see what was going on before he closed the door, conscious of the Colonel's privacy. Reaching for the desk in the darkness, he switched the small lamp on and didn't miss the shudder of pain from the man curled up on the floor.

"Colonel?"

Despite the heaves beginning to subside, Jack didn't respond as he struggled to regain his equilibrium.

Jonas crouched down next to him. "Sir, I'm going to call the infirmary."

"No!" Jack shook his head vehemently, and the action set the retching off again.

Jonas straightened decisively, moved to the desk, and picked up the telephone.

When Dr Warner emerged from Colonel O'Neill's office he was surprised to find the other members of SG1 loitering in the corridor. As he quietly closed the door, he held his hand up to stop the barrage of questions that he knew they were about to throw at him.

"The Colonel has a severe migraine. I've given him something to ease the symptoms, and he's under strict orders to rest."

"This is the second migraine in a month." Sam looked at the doctor in concern. "I know he gets headaches, but they've never been as bad as this before."

Warner shrugged. "I'm sorry, Major, but I am not at liberty to discuss Colonel O'Neill's medical history with you." He looked at his watch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to. I will ensure that a medic checks on the Colonel throughout the rest of the day and tonight."

Sam watched as the doctor walked away, and then turned to Teal'c. "Teal'c…."

"Do not worry, MajorCarter, I shall remain here outside O'Neill's quarters." The Jaffa moved into position, effectively blocking the doorway.

The Colonel didn't emerge from his office until 5am the following morning and, ignoring Teal'c, headed straight for the locker room where he stood under the shower for ten minutes before changing into a fresh set of BDUs.

Teal'c followed him, and stood impassively outside until he had finished and stepped back out into the corridor.

"When did I get a personal bodyguard?" He walked past Teal'c.

"I am merely concerned for your well being, O'Neill." The Jaffa followed Jack as he took the stairs down to the commissary.

"Well you can relax, Teal'c. Dr Warner gave me something, and it worked. Now I'm going to get some juice and pancakes, and then I'm going up to the surface to get some air." Jack finally stopped to look at Teal'c. "So you can stop following me around."

Kicking the front door shut Jack winced as the noise pounded in his head, before he went through to the kitchen and dumped a stack of files on the table. Recognising the warning signs of yet another migraine, he dug into his pocket for the bottle of pills that he had come to rely on in the last three weeks, and dry swallowed two of the small white capsules. Knowing that they would take a while to kick in, he went through to the lounge, pulled the drapes closed, and lay down on the couch.

With a weary sigh, General Hammond put the telephone down and leaned back in his chair. He had just spent almost forty minutes on the phone with General Kerrigan at the Academy, who had been very vocal about Colonel O'Neill's training methods with his cadets. Now Hammond wanted to hear Jack's version of what had happened.

A quick call to the security desk confirmed that the Colonel had left for the evening, so Hammond decided that he would need to pay him a visit.

A couple of hours sleep had allowed the pills to work their magic and, after a quick sandwich, Jack began to work on the files at the kitchen table. With Carter and Jonas involved in the development of yet another hybrid plane, and Teal'c assisting at the Alpha site, he had been stuck with yet more SGC induction training. The seven latest cadets had been with him for a week and, as far as he was concerned, they had turned out to be the most useless bunch of an increasingly poor selection. Relieved that they had rotated back to the Academy, all he had to do was fill out their evaluation forms and that would be the last time he would have to think about them.

He had almost finished when there was a knock at his front door. Opening it he was surprised to find Hammond standing in the porch.

"General?"

Hammond eyed Jack carefully, noting the tired lines and the shadows around his eyes. "Jack, I was wondering if we could talk?"

Jack shrugged and stepped aside, granting Hammond entry. "Sure. Come through to the kitchen."

As Hammond walked past him, Jack closed the front door and followed him through to the kitchen.

"Have a seat, sir. Can I get you a coffee or something?"

Hammond shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He sat down at the table, and looked at the files that covered the surface. "Catching up with your paperwork?"

Jack retrieved a fresh mug of coffee, and returned to his seat at the table. "Cadet evaluations. Best to do them while it's still all fresh in the mind." He sipped the coffee, and then put the mug down. "So, what was so important that you needed to talk to me this evening, sir?"

Hammond rested his hands on the table. "I had a conversation with General Kerrigan. He felt he had to voice some concerns he has with your training regime." He didn't miss the stiffening of Jack's shoulders as he continued, "Amongst other things, he mentioned an unnecessary harshness, ignoring reasonable questions, a patronising manner…..do you want me to continue?"

"Well, if General Kerrigan saw fit to send cadets with at least an iota of intelligence I'm sure I wouldn't have to be like that." Jack's face was set in stone.

Hammond struggled to hide his shock at the lack of denial concerning Kerrigan's complaints. "Colonel, one of the cadets reported that you almost struck him. Is that true?"

Jack took another sip of coffee. "And if I said it was?" 

Hammond's eyes narrowed. "Then you only just avoided a court martial. Striking another member of the United States Air Force is a disciplinary offence."

"Then it's just as well I didn't hit him isn't it, sir?"

Hammond shook his head in disbelief. "Colonel, I know you aren't happy being stuck with the induction training, but taking it out on the cadets is not the behaviour I would expect from the SGC's second in command." He got to his feet. "I thought the General was exaggerating when he called me but, from your belligerent mood, I can honestly say I'm beginning to rethink that assumption."

Jack rose from his chair. "That's your prerogative, sir."

"Colonel," Hammond stated sternly, "I would like you to take this weekend to reassess your current attitude towards cadet training, before the next group arrives on Monday. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack looked straight at him. "Crystal………sir."

He closed the door after Hammond, and then pressed the palms of his hands to his head in an attempt to block out the pain exploding through his skull. The confrontation had brought it back with vengeance.

Stumbling back into the kitchen, he took another couple of pills and went to lie down.

Five days later 

No matter how exciting it was to be working on new technology, Sam always enjoyed returning to the SGC. After signing in at the security desk, she made her way down to her lab, where she spent an hour catching up with her emails, before going to the commissary in search of coffee and a muffin.

She noted the louder than usual chatter, and couldn't miss the looks being thrown in her direction, as she snagged a chocolate muffin and a mug of coffee. Turning to leave, she came face to face with Major Ferretti.

"Hey, Lou."

Ferretti looked uncomfortable. "Sam, can we talk?"

"Sure." She pointed to an empty table. "There?"

He shook his head. "No, I think we should go somewhere more private."

"So, what's with the secrecy?" She sat down at her lab bench and looked at Ferretti as he closed the door behind him.

"It's Colonel O'Neill." He leaned against the wall. "Yesterday evening he was arrested by MPs."

"Arrested?" Sam stared at him in disbelief. "On what charge? What's he supposed to have done?"

Ferretti scrubbed his hand through his hair. "He beat on a cadet." He looked miserable.

"But … it has to be a mistake." Sam looked confused. "The Colonel would never do anything like that."

Ferretti's shoulders slumped. "There were witnesses. It happened here – topside. The cadet has been hospitalised in the infirmary with serious injuries."

Sam was stunned. "I don't believe it." She shook her head again. "There must be some explanation . . . something?"

"Believe me, Sam, I have been wondering about it as well. But," he looked at her, reluctant to add his last piece of bad news, "I saw the attack. It was completely unprovoked."

After his arrest, he had been transferred to the MP section at Peterson Air Force Base and, due to the lateness of the day, was quickly processed and locked up for the night.

It wasn't until later that the MPs commented on the fact that, throughout the whole procedure, the Colonel hadn't spoken once. He hadn't even confirmed his name and rank, or answered the serious charges as they were read to him. He had seemed almost completely unaware of what was happening to him.

He was already awake when the lights automatically came on in his cell at 6am, and the brightness drilled mercilessly into his eyes, increasing the pain that was threatening to implode his brain. As the MPs had stripped him of everything during his arrest, he didn't have anything to ease the agony, so he curled up on his side, pulling a blanket right over his head.

Fifteen minutes later an MP hammered on his cell door, and shouted something that he didn't register.

A further fifteen minutes passed before the door swung open and two MPs entered. "Colonel O'Neill. Stand to attention."

He didn't move from under the blanket so the MP, after signalling for a colleague to back him up, stepped forward and yanked the blanket away. "Did you not hear me, Colonel? Stand to attention!"

Jack unfurled himself from the bunk, and stood up painfully, seemingly unable to stand to attention. His eyes were glassy and unresponsive, and he merely seemed to obey like a confused child when the MP indicated to the door and said, "Follow me."

As he put the telephone down, General Hammond felt as if the walls were closing in around him. The cadet had died twenty minutes ago and the charges against Colonel Jack O'Neill had just been severely upgraded from assault to murder.

"Has he been examined by a doctor, sir?" Major Phil Donaldson looked at Colonel John Simpson, and then indicated to the door behind him. "He doesn't look well."

Simpson glanced through the small viewing window. "Yes, Major. He was checked over by a doctor when he arrived. Apart from an elevated blood pressure and increased pulse rate, which were both understandable, he was cleared as fit and healthy." He turned away from the window, not quite believing the situation. He knew Jack O'Neill, and this just didn't make sense.

Donaldson sighed. "Okay. But I'd like the doctor to see him again before he's transferred."

Simpson nodded and motioned to one of the MPs. "Ruiz, please get Dr Warner down here." The MP moved away to the telephone, and was back moments later. "Sir, Doctor Warner is still at the Cheyenne Mountain base. Doctor McKenzie is available, and will be down in fifteen minutes."

Donaldson flicked through the file he was holding. "When will he be transferred to Fort Leavenworth?"

Simpson glanced at his watch. "It'll be a couple of hours."

McKenzie unwrapped the blood pressure cuff and successfully suppressed the smirk that he so desperately wanted to show on his face. Dr Warner had done a fine job with handling Colonel O'Neill's medication, and now he had to do his part.

He put the cuff down on the table and retrieved a med kit from his bag.

"What are you giving him, Doctor?" Donaldson was watching carefully.

McKenzie expertly filled a syringe with a colourless liquid. "It's nothing. Just a mild sedative, something to relax him for his trip. His BP is still running a little too high, and we wouldn't want the journey to stress him out too much." He injected the contents of the syringe into Jack's arm. The Colonel flinched slightly as the drugs entered his system but remained silent. "I'll call ahead to Leavenworth and make sure he's checked out on arrival."

"They've moved him." Sam read the email carefully, and then deleted it. "He's already on his way to Leavenworth."

"Leavenworth? Why are they moving him?" Jonas looked confused.

Sam paced up and down her lab floor. "Fort Leavenworth is, amongst other things, the United States' Disciplinary Barracks. When it's a charge as serious as murder, and you're a Special Ops Colonel, then that's where they send you."

Jonas shook his head. "Is it just me, or are you having as hard a time as I am believing that the Colonel is guilty?" He shrugged. "I mean, it's just not . . ."

"I know exactly what you mean." Sam agreed. "So I think we need to start examining the Colonel's actions over the past few weeks. Something just can't be right."

Sitting in the back of a military truck, wearing bright orange overalls, his wrists and ankles shackled and attached by a chain to a belt around his waist, Jack began to gradually come out of his state of fugue.

At first he really didn't have a clue as to what was going on and, as any good soldier would do, sat quietly in an attempt to assess the situation. But, no matter how long he stared down at his chains, he couldn't come up with any reasonable explanation as to what the hell was happening.

Finally, he lifted his head up.

The two MPs sitting opposite him tightened their grips on their weapons as he looked at them. They had been travelling for over three hours and this was the first time the prisoner had done anything other than stare blankly at his shackles.

Now, he looked at them in disbelief.

"What the hell is going on?"

The MPs exchanged a quick look with each other and then one of them spoke. "You're being transferred to Leavenworth to await court martial."

Jack pulled at the chains while trying to process the information, an action which made the MPs even more nervous. He tried desperately to recall how he had ended up in the back of the truck, but everything was out of sorts. The feeling of confinement from the chains was beginning to agitate him and he began pulling against them harder.

"Colonel, please desist from your actions." The senior of the two MPs was now on full alert. He knew this guy had been Special Forces trained and, as a result, he was more than a little anxious about having to deal with him.

But Jack wasn't listening. He couldn't. Inside him feelings of fear began to well up, like molten lava, as he headed for a full blown panic attack – something he couldn't control. He started struggling harder and harder against the restraints as memories of other times he'd been chained surged to the surface, other times his liberty had been denied him, other times others had controlled him. And like a volcano erupting with violence Jack tried to do what his confused and terrified instincts told him to do.

He tried to break for freedom.

One of the MPs banged against the side of the van, signalling for it to pull over whilst the other MP moved to grab hold of one of Jack's arms in an attempt to restrain him. But Jack simply threw him off and struggled yet more violently against the chains. Picking himself up off the floor of the van, the MP was joined by his colleague as once again they tried to restrain the panicking prisoner. Moments later they were joined by their two colleagues, who had been travelling up front, and whilst three of them managed to get hold of the man the fourth MP retrieved a medical kit. He grabbed a syringe pen and, shouting a warning to his colleagues, jabbed it into the struggling man's thigh. After a couple of minutes, Jack stopped struggling and slumped back on the bench unconscious.

McKenzie wasn't surprised to receive a phone call from the CMO at Leavenworth, who updated him on what had happened during the transfer. McKenzie put on an act worthy of an Oscar when assuring the CMO, a Dr Jacobs, that he had had absolutely no evidence to suggest that Colonel O'Neill would have gone into a full blown anxiety attack and that, based on all his years of knowing the Colonel, he would never had expected it from him. After putting the telephone down he allow himself a smirk. Of course the Colonel would never have a panic attack. It was what he'd given the Colonel just before the transfer which had caused that.

Without opening his eyes, Jack knew that he was in an infirmary, and by opening his eyes he merely confirmed it. He felt like crap, his mouth was dry and he had that muzzy feeling that indicated that he had been drugged. Wanting to sit up, he tried to move his arms and found that he was restrained. With a resigned feeling, he lifted his head up and saw the soft restraints that were wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

"Standard procedure, Colonel." A man he didn't recognise appeared at his bedside. "Do you want to sit up?"

Jack shrugged and the man took that as an affirmative. Moments later, the head of the bed had been raised and Jack now had a view of the area.

"I guess I made it to Leavenworth, then?"

The man nodded. "You are in the infirmary attached to the USDB. I'm the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Jacobs."

"What did I do?"

Jacobs pulled a stool up and sat down. "You were being transferred here from Peterson and you went . ….. how did the MPs put it …….. a little crazy. They stuck you with enough sedative to bring down an elephant, which is why you are currently a guest of the infirmary."

Jack frowned and shook his head. "No, I didn't mean that. Why am I here? At the USDB?"

Jacobs looked at him closely, not knowing if the man was trying to wind him up. "Colonel, you were transferred to the USDB on a charge of murder."

General Richard Hawker had not been a happy man when Colonel Jack O'Neill had been delivered to Leavenworth unconscious and taken straight to the infirmary. After receiving a report on what had happened, he retreated to his office and picked up the telephone.

Major Donaldson arrived at Leavenworth the following morning and was more than a little surprised to be directed to the infirmary. He was shown into a small office and left to kick his heels for twenty minutes before Dr Jacobs arrived.

"Major Donaldson? I believe that you are Colonel O'Neill's defence attorney?" He closed the door behind him.

Donaldson nodded. "That's correct." He glanced around. "So are you going to explain what is going on?"

Jacobs sat down on one of the chairs. "It would appear that Colonel O'Neill had what we would call a manic episode whilst being transferred. He got violent and subsequently the MPs were forced to sedate him." Seeing that Donaldson was about to protest, he held his hand up. "They used a rather heavy dose and we admitted him to the infirmary for twenty four hours of observation. This afternoon he will be processed as a normal prisoner."

Donaldson didn't look impressed. "I want to talk to him."

Jacobs shrugged. "He's awake, so it won't be a problem." He rose to his feet. "But I think there's something you should be aware of." He paused, and Donaldson looked at him enquiringly. Jacobs continued, "He didn't seem to know why he had been arrested. We told him the charges but that's about it."

Hammond wasn't surprised to see Sam standing in the doorway when he looked up from his paperwork. "Major Carter?"

Sam stepped into the office. "Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you but I was wondering if you had any news on the Colonel?"

He leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to close the door, which she did before moving to stand in front of his desk.

"At ease, Major, take a seat." He waited until she was seated before continuing. "All I know at the moment is that he has arrived at the USDB and will be held there until his court martial. A Major Philip Donaldson from JAG has been assigned to defend him. I received a call from him first thing and he's due to speak to the Colonel this morning."

Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm kind of finding it hard to understand all this."

Hammond nodded sadly. "So am I, Major, but it's happening." He looked uncomfortable. "In the meantime, SG1 has a mission tomorrow."

"A mission, sir?" Sam stared at him in disbelief.

Hammond shook his head. "You were scheduled to join Teal'c at the Alpha site. I see no reason why the mission should be delayed. You head out tomorrow as planned at 1400 hours."

Jack felt like he was trapped in a living nightmare as he listened to Donaldson explain to him the events that had led to his arrest. He couldn't believe that he had been charged with assaulting a cadet under his command, and beating him senseless in front of witnesses. At first he thought that it was a set up but, when Donaldson had given him the witness statements to read, he had gone numb when he had seen Lou Ferretti's name on one of the statements. And when Donaldson had told him that the cadet had died from his injuries, he had thought he was going to be sick as he felt the colour drain from his face. He sat staring at the file of evidence, desperately racking his memory for anything, _anything,_ that would help him understand what happened. But there was nothing.

He couldn't remember anything.

It was as if the past few weeks had just never happened.

Donaldson had watched him closely, asking subtle questions and, with a growing horror, realised that the man sitting opposite him appeared to have absolutely no recollection of the events that led to his present situation.

After a two hour session with Major Donaldson, Jack was subjected to one more medical exam before being declared, once again, medically fit. Major Donaldson had argued with Doctor Jacobs that he was unhappy with the decision. It was clear that O'Neill had suffered some kind of mental trauma and was in need of further help. Although he hadn't been successful in preventing O'Neill's discharge from the infirmary, he had managed to get a promise from Jacobs that he would watch him closely and schedule further tests.

Guards were summoned and Jack, dressed once more in orange overalls, was shackled for his trip to the main prison.

Jacobs and Major Donaldson stood together and watched as he was escorted out of the infirmary, the chains causing him to adopt an ungainly shuffle. Both were deeply uneasy about the decision to put such a high ranking officer into the main prison population, and both were deeply concerned about Jack O'Neill's state of health.

It was headline news on the prison grapevine that a real live Air Force Colonel was about to be introduced to the USDB's population, and the inmates were more than a little curious.

It was exactly what Hawker had hoped for.

The guards and inmates alike had expected the Colonel to be held in confinement, away from the general population, but he had made it clear that O'Neill would be placed in a regular cell and be expected to follow the rules and regulations just like all the other inmates.

He also knew that most of the inmates wouldn't take too kindly having a Colonel amongst them. Problems with authority were why most of the men were in Leavenworth in the first place. A colonel represented authority with a capital A. A colonel in the main prison population spelled trouble with a capital T. For the Colonel.

Hammond watched with relief as Major Carter and Jonas Quinn stepped through the wormhole, knowing that they were now out of harm's way.

Leaving the Control Room, he strode briskly to his office and closed the door firmly behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. After eight rings it was answered.

"Maybourne? We have to meet as soon as possible."

The guards weren't happy as they escorted their prisoner to his allocated cell. Processing Colonel O'Neill had taken longer than expected and as a result most of the inmates had returned to the block for an hour before supper call. As they led him along the metal walkway the intensity of the stares unnerved them, and again they found themselves silently questioning Hawker's orders that the Colonel should not be placed in solitary confinement.

Reaching their destination the guards unshackled Jack and, when he didn't move, pushed him none to gently into the small room. As he stood in the middle of the cell, looking around, they left.

"Home sweet home." He sat down on the small narrow bunk, leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pray that it was just all a bad dream, but he knew better than to close them when the cell door was unlocked.

He took in his new home, the beige chipped walls, the toilet in the corner behind the door, the cracked sink, the small locker, and the narrow metal framed bunk with the typically lumpy mattress.

"Christ." He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Welcome to Hell."

Former Air Force Lieutenant Rob Neumann was in a foul mood as he stomped along the walkway towards his cell. Today was the third anniversary of his incarceration and, although Hawker's arrival four months ago had made life easier for him, the anniversary still reminded him that he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. He remembered the closed door court martial where they sentenced him to spend the remainder of his living years in the USDB, then the second meeting, before his transfer, when the NID told him that they would set his family up for life as long as he stayed quiet. It had been a no win situation, nobody would have believed him about travelling to other planets, and they had played on his only weakness . . . his family.

With a scowl he forced himself to stop dwelling on it, and that was when he noticed that something wasn't quite right on the floor. Normally the pool table would be in use and at least three or four radios would be playing loudly. Glancing over the walkway he saw that most of the men were gathered on the ground floor, talking amongst themselves. The guards were keeping their distance but you could tell that they were uneasy. Thinking that maybe he should just keep his head down, curiosity got the better of him and, when he reached the next set of stairs, he went down to join them.

"Hey Gunny, what's going on?" Neumann went straight to the man most inmates regarded as the 'head guy'. Gunny had been a guest of the USDB for eight years, after masterminding a theft of guns and weapons from the armoury at the base where he had been stationed. Six foot four, addicted to body building, and possessing a mean temper – nobody messed with him.

"We've got a new guest." Gunny indicated a cell just two doors down from Neumann's.

"And?" Neumann shrugged. "We get new guests all the time. What's different this time?"

"It looks like you've lost the title of highest ranking officer, former Lieutenant Neumann, sir." An inmate sneered.

Neumann looked back up at the cell. "An officer?" It was unusual to say the least and he remembered the reaction when they had learned that he had been a Lieutenant. "What rank?"

"Colonel." Gunny didn't look impressed. "Air Force."

Neumann gave a low whistle. "A Colonel? Do we have a name?"

But before anyone could answer the cell door that everyone had been scrutinising, swung open.

Jack had sat on the bunk for what seemed like an eternity before giving himself a severe talking to. He knew he was in trouble, no officer would have an easy time in the USDB, but he knew he couldn't hide in his cell forever. Deciding it was time to get the lay of the land, so to speak, he got to his feet.

Neumann stared at the figure and at that moment thought that he must had died and gone to heaven. Without realising his actions, he pumped his arm up and down. "Yessss!"

Gunny raised an eyebrow. "Neumann?"

Neumann couldn't wipe the look of satisfaction off his face. "Gunny, my prayers have just been answered." He pointed to Jack, who was now walking along the walkway. "Remember me telling you how I ended up here?"

Gunny grinned. "That's the officer that betrayed you?"

Neumann nodded. "Oh yes, and I feel that revenge is going to be so sweet."

If they thought that the USDB was going to intimidate him then they were going to be sorely disappointed. Ignoring the stares from the other inmates, Jack walked the internal perimeter of the barracks, noting the washrooms, mess hall, guard rooms, and where the guards were usually stationed. Satisfied with his reconnaissance he decided to return to his cell, and it was then that he saw Neumann.

"Damn." He muttered it under his breath as he watched the young man climb the stairs to cut him off.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Colonel O'Neill." Neumann now blocked his way. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Leave it, Neumann."

"Leave what, O'Neill? I just thought that I should be the one to welcome you to your new home." He stepped closer to the older man. "After all, we're almost neighbours."

Jack took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head before speaking, keeping his voice low, "Neumann, I can assume by the fact that you are still breathing that your buddies down there don't know the real charges you faced at court martial. As I recall being a traitor to your country wouldn't go down too well, even in here." He jabbed his finger into Neumann's chest. "So I would advise you to drop the crap and stay away from me."

Neumann's eyes flashed angrily.

"And if I don't?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll let you think about that." He sidestepped around the man and returned to his cell.

Hammond stepped into the quiet bar and made his way over to one of the corner booths. As he sat down a waitress appeared, and he ordered a beer. Moments later the beer was in front of him and he looked at his watch impatiently.

"Now, now, General. You should know by now that I'm never late." Maybourne slid into the booth opposite him and signalled the waitress, ordering a scotch on the rocks.

When he had his drink, Maybourne eyed the General closely. "I guess they finally got Jack then?"

Hammond nodded. "A couple of days ago."

"Is he alive?" Maybourne sipped the scotch, savouring the taste.

"They've got him in Leavenworth."

Maybourne put the glass down and grimaced. "Clever. How?"

Hammond's shoulders slumped. "He beat the crap out of a cadet during SGC training. They arrested him for assault, threw him in the brig at Peterson."

Maybourne frowned. "So how did he end up at the USDB?"

"The cadet died from his injuries." Hammond finally drank some of his beer. "They transferred him to Leavenworth the next day."

"And you think that it's a set up." Maybourne finished his drink and caught the eye of the waitress, who brought over another drink.

Hammond waited until she'd gone. "Jack had been acting somewhat strangely for the last couple of months, I just put it down to the stress. Dr Jackson's death hit him hard, and then there was the Tok'ra……..I should have looked into it more closely." There was a trace of guilty regret in his voice.

"What about Major Carter and Teal'c? Surely they must be digging into it all."

Hammond shook his head. "I've sent them off world. If they've got Jack, what's to stop them coming after the rest of SG1? I thought it would be safer to keep them at the Alpha Site until I knew what was going on."

Maybourne nodded in agreement. "Okay. Tell me everything, and I mean everything."

Back in his cell, Jack had a hard time fighting the instinct to beat the crap out of something. He knew he'd been set up, it had to be the only explanation for his memory loss . . . he just wished he could remember.

Ignoring the bed he slid down on the cold floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His head was beginning to ache and the confidence to face everything head on was beginning to ebb away. With a weary sigh, he moved his elbows to rest on his knees and placed his head in his hands.

It was a simple plan but Gunny was determined that nothing would go wrong as he sent an unobtrusive signal to an inmate, who then began yelling and hollering at another prisoner.

The guards, preparing for shift change at the guard room, began to take notice and when the pushing and shoving began they moved towards the disturbance.

Gunny sent his next signal.

Jack, his mind going over and over what his defence attorney had shown him, the evidence against him, the kid's blood on his hands, failed at first to hear the noise outside. Finally lifting his head up, he only had seconds to register the three men entering his cell.

As he scrambled to his feet, he cursed his stupidity at letting his guard down. Being on the floor gave his attackers an advantage as they grabbed hold of him. Not prepared to give in without a fight, Jack lashed out, and his legs connected with one of the men who gave a pain filled grunt.

Suddenly his legs were kicked out from beneath him and he was thrown heavily to the floor. He opened his mouth to start shouting, but they were prepared, and a rag was shoved into his mouth. He struggled violently as two of them pinned him to the floor, and he tried desperately to spit the gag out. Then came the pain as his third assailant delivered several brutal kicks to his sides before telling his friends to let go of him. Jack instinctively rolled over onto his side, and curled up, his body reacting to the pain. 

"Friggin' officer." One of the assailants muttered it under his breath as he kicked the prone figure in the kidneys. "This is just a lesson for you, so that you know your place." He kicked him again and again, inflicted yet more pain. He only stopped when his comrades motioned that their time was up.

The gag was quickly removed, and the barely conscious man was unceremoniously hauled up off the floor and dumped onto his bunk, a blanket thrown over him.

By the time he regained some of his senses the lights had gone off, and the doors automatically locked down for the night.

Harry cursed himself as he left the bar and began the walk back to his motel, only a couple of blocks away. As soon as Hammond had begun talking he'd known who had been behind it.

Senator Kinsey's presidential campaign was moving up a gear and the man could ill afford any scandal. Knowing that both 'Starsky' and 'Hutch' had enough information on him to ruin not only the campaign but his entire career was undoubtedly a major thorn in the man's side. With Maybourne declared a known traitor, and on the run from the authorities, it had left Jack wide open to Kinsey's attack.

Now he just had to put the puzzle together and get Jack the hell out of Dodge.

The guard strode along the metal walkway, opening cell doors and checking to make sure that their occupants were up and moving.

When he reached Jack's cell he swung the door open and saw the occupant hadn't made any attempt to rise.

"Time to get up!" His voice boomed around the tiny room and he was rewarded with movement.

Jack, ignoring the searing pain which seemed to radiate throughout his entire body, pulled himself up into a sitting position and slowly swung his legs out over the side of the bunk.

Satisfied, the guard moved on.

Wrapping his arms protectively around his bruised and battered body, he gritted his teeth and stumbled to his feet. Not caring that he was still in the same clothes as yesterday, he pulled all his strength together and made his way out of his cell.

Neumann stopped in his tracks when he saw Jack move past his cell, not believing what he was seeing. Gunny had told him his men would work him over so well that he wouldn't walk for a week. Yet there he was – heading down to the mess hall for breakfast.

The attack was the talk of the mess hall with all the inmates wondering why they weren't on lockdown. Surely the guards would have discovered him by now? So when Jack made his entrance, and joined the end of the queue for food, an eerie silence fell over the entire room.

Despite the excruciating pain, Jack couldn't help but feel the satisfaction that he had got one over on these men. He also knew that it wouldn't be long before he'd be making a trip to the infirmary. He had a session with his JAG attorney this morning and he'd know straight away that something was wrong. He got himself a plastic mug of coffee, made his way to the nearest empty table, and sat down.

From across the mess hall Gunny watched Jack with something bordering on admiration. He knew that the man was hurting, you could tell by the pasty colour of his face, the sweat on his brow, and the way his hands shook when he picked his coffee up. But he wasn't calling attention to himself and it was at that point that Gunny began to wonder. In his experience officers were bastards who made trouble at the drop of a hat. They moaned like hell about the slightest thing. Complained like friggin' children if they got hurt. Maybe he'd been unlucky, but he'd never come across an officer who'd earned his respect.

O'Neill shouldn't be on his feet. He should be in his cell crying for a visit to the infirmary. Or busy trying to help the guards identify the men who'd beaten him up, and getting them slung into solitary.

But he wasn't.

Just one sip of coffee and Jack's stomach rebelled, causing him to push the mug away. Preoccupied with fighting the nausea he didn't notice the approaching guards.

"O'Neill, your JAG attorney is waiting." One of the guards stood to the side of him. "Time to go."

Jack started to get up but was too slow for the guard's liking, who grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. The sudden movement was too much for Jack's battered body, and the pain that erupted was just too much for him to bear. Without a sound his eyes rolled up and he slumped bonelessly to the floor. As the blackness claimed him he vaguely heard alarms.

Strict procedures didn't allow medical staff into the main prison barracks area until all prisoners had been returned to their cells and a lockdown was in place. Dr Jacobs hated this rule as it wasted valuable time – time that could be spent treating a patient. But, like any good soldier, he remained in the sanctuary of the guard room until the all clear could be given.

Finally it was confirmed that lockdown was in place and Dr Jacobs and three of his medics were escorted to the mess hall, where the only activity was centred around a single inmate lying on the floor. As Jacobs approached the scene he recognised the man.

Ordering the guards to give them space to work, Jacobs allowed his medics to work and within seconds they were beginning to report vital signs. Grabbing a pair of scissors from a med kit, he knelt down next to the unconscious man and began cutting away his clothes. One look at the bruises and he knew it was serious. "Get him on a backboard. I want him in the infirmary now!"

Hawker stepped into the mess hall just in time to see Jack being loaded onto a gurney.

"Report" He looked at one of the guards, who shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but nobody knows what happened. He just collapsed." The guard looked bewildered.

Hawker scowled. "I want incident statements on my desk like yesterday." He stepped aside as the medical team rushed past with the gurney and got a look at the patient. He knew that there would have to be enquiry, it would be too suspicious if the attack wasn't investigated. But he knew that there would be people who would be pleased with the turn of events, and he suspected that the investigation would be brushed under the carpet.

Donaldson, waiting in one of the interview rooms, glanced at his watch and wondered how long it took for a prisoner to be brought up.

Maybourne rubbed his tired eyes and poured himself yet another cup of coffee. He had spent the entire night on his computer looking for clues within the confusing network of NID contacts, with little success. Whoever was controlling this had it sewn up tightly.

Sitting back in his chair he went over in his head everything that Hammond had told him and began scribbling points down on a notepad. Coming to the end of his list, he reviewed it time and time again. And each time he ended up back at the top of the list where he had written "migraines". He knew that research had been undertaken after a high proportion of SGC personnel that used the Stargate complained of headaches, but he couldn't recall these headaches developing into migraines. Maybe it was time to talk to the SGC's CMO.

"Three cracked ribs, bruised kidneys, fractured collarbone, and extensive bruising." Jacobs looked at Donaldson. "He's in a lot of pain at the moment but he'll make a full recovery." 

Donaldson looked over the doctor's shoulder into the exam room, where his client was currently situated. "Has he woken up?"

"Yes." The doctor looked defensive. "But only briefly. He's on some painkillers that pack quite a punch, so he'll be drifting for a while yet. I'm afraid that he won't be up to questions for at least another twenty four hours."

Donaldson nodded in relief. "Good. I don't want anyone talking to him unless I'm there." He checked the time. "I need to call some people but I'm staying on base. When he wakes …" he dug into his pocket and retrieved a card, "please call me."

Janet Fraiser struggled into the house, arms loaded with grocery bags. Having been away in Washington for the last three months, the kitchen cupboards needed to be restocked before she returned to duty at the SGC. Kicking the door shut behind her, she felt one of the bags give, and she cursed as fresh vegetables spilled out onto the floor.

"Damn!" She dumped the rest of the bags on the floor and knelt down to retrieve the escaping potatoes.

It was then that she saw the note lying on the doormat.

The groceries abandoned she sat down on the floor and picked the envelope up, seeing her name scrawled on the front. Recognising General Hammond's handwriting she opened it, and frowned as she read the contents.

It was request for a meeting off base and she instantly knew it had to be about Colonel O'Neill. Sam had called her in Washington to explain the circumstances behind his arrest, and the two friends had gone on to discuss the whole shocking scenario. Both had agreed, without reservation, that something wasn't right. From the tone of his note, it was pretty clear that the General felt the same way.

He instantly recognised the fuzzy feeling in his head, and the dry cotton taste in his mouth, as the after effects of some sort of drug, and he needed water to wash it away. Without thinking he attempted to sit up and was unprepared for the agony.

"Jeez!" He clutched his chest, and gasped for breath, tears springing to his eyes.

"Now, that wasn't very clever, was it?" Dr Jacobs, who had been sitting at his bedside updating charts, eyed his patient.

Jack scowled at him. "Ya think?" He said it through clenched teeth as he waited for the pain to subside.

Jacobs shook his head, and put the files down on the floor before getting to his feet. "I would advise you to lie back down, it'll reduce the pain."

Jack flashed him another scowl but, nevertheless, lay back down. Jacobs gave a small grin, and raised the head of the bed slightly so the other man could see his surroundings.

"As you can see, you're back in the infirmary." He checked the monitors, noting Jack's vital signs. "Care to tell me what happened?"

"I tripped." The pain was lessening now and his breathing was beginning to ease. "Small room, lots of obstacles, go figure."

Jacobs sighed and returned to his chair, stooping down to pick up one of the files. "Your medical file came with you and I took the opportunity to glance through it." He tapped it meaningfully. "It's certainly an eye opener."

Jack tried to hide his surprise. Surely they wouldn't have sent a medical file which would have included any injuries from SGC missions?

"But you must be very clumsy. You have a few recent scars that aren't explained in your file." Jacobs knew he was playing with fire.

Jack turned away from him, grimacing from the pain. "Yeah, well . . . you know what it's like." He closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

The last person Janet expected to see when she knocked on the motel door was Harry Maybourne, and she stepped back looking around uncertainly. It wasn't until she saw General Hammond already in the room that she stopped.

Maybourne smiled. "Dr Fraiser, thank you for joining us." He opened the door wider. "Please come in."

Janet stepped into the room, carefully avoiding Maybourne, and focussed on the General. "Sir?"

"It's all right, Doctor." Hammond waved her over to the table in the corner. "I'm glad that you could join us."

Janet slid into a chair and looked at her superior. "Sir, what's going on?"

Hammond picked up a pot of coffee and poured her a mug. "It's about Colonel O'Neill."

Maybourne joined them at the table. "And the fact that he's been framed for murder." He looked at her closely. "You don't seem surprised?"

"No I'm not, Maybourne." She fixed him with a steely glare.

"Can I ask why?" He matched her glare for glare.

"Because I know the Colonel."

Maybourne nodded his approval. "Good, because we need your help."

"Help? I don't understand. I wasn't even on base when everything happened."

Hammond sighed. "We need to know about his migraines." 

Janet frowned and looked at the General. "Migraines? The Colonel suffers from headaches, not migraines."

Gunny lounged against the wall in the recreation area having watched the activity surrounding O'Neill's cell. Judging by their actions, it was pretty clear that O'Neill hadn't given them squat to work with and, by early evening, things had died down and the tension in the barracks was beginning to ease. Gunny decided it was time to seek out Neumann, who had been keeping a low profile for most of the day.

"Neumann." He located the man in his cell, where he was reading a book.

Neumann put the book down and sat up straighter on his bunk. "Gunny, what do you need?"

Gunny shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Tell me about O'Neill."

"There's not a lot to tell." Neumann sounded hesitant, not sure where Gunny was going with this.

Gunny shrugged again. "So . . . tell me what you do know."

Neumann nodded slowly. "He was in Special Forces, saw action in most of the hot spots so rumour had it. All I know is that when he got me arrested, he was working on special projects, all highly classified stuff. I got caught when he went undercover to investigate the theft of military technology. My boss trusted him, and I ended up here." He cleared his throat. "Why did you wanna know?"

Gunny shrugged yet again, and left without answering.

Janet emptied the remaining contents of the third pot of coffee into her mug and gave a tired sigh. "I need to check his records back at the SGC, but I can certainly say that I didn't authorise any new pain medication for the Colonel. His headaches where lessening in severity and frequency."

"Warner?" Hammond shook his head in disbelief. "Are we suggesting that Warner is involved in this?"

Maybourne looked at the list of names he had scrawled on a piece of paper. "Doc Fraiser here was suddenly pulled out of the SGC to work in Washington for three months. Warner steps in to cover. No one is suspicious of Warner because he's been working on and off at the SGC since the beginning. Warner starts Jack on new medication and gradually Jack's mental state deteriorates. Everyone blames it on the debilitating migraines he's been suffering and . . . bingo!" He snapped his fingers. "They've got him."

"But Warner . . .?" Hammond glanced at his watch. "Okay, I think we need to call it a night. Dr Fraiser, we need to know what medication Jack was on but we don't want to make Warner suspicious."

Janet nodded. "That won't be a problem, sir. I'm back on duty tomorrow and Warner is returning to his post at Peterson."

"And where do you think you're going?" Jacobs stood at the end of Jack's bed, his arms folded across his chest.

"Bathroom." Jack had draped a robe over his shoulders, and was currently leaning against his bed to catch his breath.

Jacobs shook his head and then noticed the Foley lying on the floor, where Jack had thrown it after pulling it out. "I don't think so, mister. You're going to get back into that bed, and I'm going to reconnect that Foley. You took some hits to your kidneys and I need to keep you under observation."

"Tough." Jack shuffled past him and then stopped. "I may be in prison, but that doesn't mean I lose my rights."

Jacobs looked at him angrily. "Like that cadet you killed?" He regretted it the instant he said it.

Jack looked straight back at him, his eyes unwavering. "Listen Doc, I don't know what happened. Maybe I killed him. Maybe I didn't. Hell, I wish I could remember." He took a deep breath. "But I know one thing . . . if it turns out I didn't kill that boy, I will always regret his death if he died _because_ of me." With that he limped away leaving the doctor watching him thoughtfully.

It had been a busy morning in the infirmary. SG5 had had a run in with a Jaffa patrol on PX6 992, and as a result Janet didn't get to sit down in her office until after lunch.

Biting into a sandwich, kindly provided by one of her nurses, she got down to reading through Jack's medical files. Warner had been meticulous in his record keeping but she was taken aback to find he had prescribed Percocet when the Colonel's migraines had been at their worst. It was something that she wouldn't normally have prescribed, preferring instead to manage the pain with Tylenol and rest.

The telephone ringing interrupted her and she snatched up the receiver.

"Fraiser."

Jacobs put the telephone down and looked across the infirmary at the patient who had captured his curiosity. During his talk with Dr Fraiser he couldn't help but pick up the genuine concern she had for the Colonel, although she'd maintained a professional conversation.

She'd mentioned migraines and to check he was still taking his medication, which Jacobs had queried because nothing had been in the file that he'd received. They had ended (the conversation) with her promising to send on the missing records.

Concern, and respect, of the depth Jacobs had sensed Fraiser felt for O'Neill was rare. It took an officer of unusual quality to earn that. Jacobs had seen them all come through his infirmary; bully boys, tough guys, mean sons of bitches, and other real nasty pieces of work. They were the types to beat a man to death. Jacobs had studied O'Neill's medical file. Knew something of what the man had suffered over the years. But nowhere did it indicate he was the sort to commit the kind of crime he was accused of. And, somehow, Jacobs just didn't read him that way, either.

"……I will always regret his death if he died _because _of me."

Things just didn't seem to add up. And Jacobs began to wonder even more about his stubborn patient.

Seeing the arrival of O'Neill's defence attorney he left his desk to meet him.

"Afternoon, Major Donaldson."

Donaldson gave him a cursory nod. "Dr Jacobs. I got a message that Colonel O'Neill was awake?"

Jacobs indicated to the bed in the far corner. "He is, but I must warn you that he's not in a good mood."

Donaldson grimaced. "How long is he going to stay in the infirmary?"

"Until tomorrow." Jacobs held up his hand to stop Donaldson's protests. "The good Colonel has decided he doesn't want to stay any longer than that. And he has his rights."

Donaldson looked as if he was going to protest, but Jacobs shrugged. "Those were his words, Major. Not mine."

"Well, well, well, look who's back." Neumann watched as Jack was escorted along the walkway to his cell. He could tell that the man was still in pain, he was walking stiffly and his right arm was held in a high sling to protect the fractured collarbone.

Gunny couldn't help but overhear Neumann and decided it was time to issue a warning. "Cool it, Neumann. O'Neill is off limits until I say so."

Neumann looked at him angrily, but even he wasn't stupid enough to argue with Gunny.

Maybourne knew he had to be careful with Hammond and Fraiser, it would be too much to hope that the NID wasn't watching key personnel at the SGC. To meet again too soon would be pushing their luck, but Maybourne had unearthed some interesting information on Dr Warner that he wanted to give them.

He just had to figure out how.

Jack still ached from head to toe and the temptation to curl up on his bunk was high but he wanted a shower, hot water to blast away the stiffness. Everyone was in the mess hall for lunch so he knew that he wouldn't be the centre of attention as he limped out of his cell.

The shower did its job easing the stiffness enough to make him feel human again. Wrapping a towel around his waist he stepped out of the shower stalls and over to one of the sinks.

Gunny slid silently into the large communal washroom having seen the Colonel go in there earlier. He stayed silent as he took in the bruises on the man's torso, still livid from the beating two days ago. Seeing the injuries for himself, Gunny again felt surprised to see him up and about.

"Seen enough?" The voice made him jump and, as he snapped out of his reverie, he found O'Neill looking at him. It was then that he saw the mark, something that took him back over ten years.

Jack, seeing Gunny staring at his chest, began to feel uncomfortable and he reached over to grab his t-shirt, ignoring the pain as he pulled it on.

Gunny pulled himself together and shrugged. "I saw you come in here and, after you'd been here a while, I guess I thought I'd just check you were okay."

Jack shot him another look and finished dressing. "Yeah, well, I'm fine." He picked the sling up, decided he didn't need it, and then limped past the man in the doorway.

Gunny let out the breath he had been holding, and shook his head, his hand going to the raised scarring on his chest – feeling it under his shirt. He hadn't thought he would ever see another man who bore the same mark.

The MP entered the infirmary and caught the attention of the nearest medic. "Excuse me, where can I find Dr Jacobs?"

The medic glanced around to locate the doctor and then pointed to the small office. "Over there."

The MP nodded his thanks. The door was open but he still knocked.

Dr Jacobs looked up from his work, surprised to see an MP. "Yes? Can I help you?"

The MP put a paper bag he'd been carrying on the desk. "I escorted a prisoner in a few days ago by the name of O'Neill." He shrugged. "I was meant to hand over his belongings, but in all the fuss it got overlooked."

Jacobs shrugged. "The prisoner isn't in the infirmary anymore. Why didn't you just take it to the processing area?"

The MP looked sheepish and Jacobs understood. "Don't want to be caught failing to follow correct procedures?" Deciding to let the man off the hook, he took the bag. "Don't worry, son, I'll make sure that the prisoner gets his stuff."

The MP shot him a grateful look and left, leaving Jacobs with the bag. He placed it back down on the desk and stared at it. Then with a sigh, he opened it up. Inside were O'Neill's wallet, keys, and other bits and pieces. But it was the small bottle of pills that got his attention. Without hesitation he picked the item out of the bag, read the label, and then opened it, shaking a couple of the tablets out onto his hand. With a frown he looked at the label again. It was clearly marked as Percocet, but the tablets he held in his hand were definitely _not_ Percocet.

A guard had delivered his prescribed painkillers on time and Jack found himself drifting in and out of sleep. As the guards were keeping a very close eye on him he was more than happy to just lie there, as even the stupidest of inmates wouldn't try anything at the moment.

When he heard footsteps approaching, despite the drugs, he cracked his eyelids open expecting to see a guard walk past. But it wasn't a guard. Struggling to sit up, he recognised his visitor as the man from the washroom earlier. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Gunny stepped further into the cell. "I wanted to talk."

Jack shook his head. "I think you've caught me at a bad time, you see some goons did me over a couple of days ago and I'm feeling a little under the weather."

"Yeah, I noticed." Gunny tried not to smile at the obvious sarcasm. "That's partly why I'm here." 

Jack leaned back tiredly against the wall. "As you don't seem to wanna take the hint about leaving, you may as well choose a piece of floor and sit down."

This time Gunny did allow himself a small grin as he lowered himself down. "I'm Gunny."

"I know."

"Thought you might." Gunny glanced at the open door to check that he wouldn't be overheard.

Jack followed his line of sight. "You know, it's against the rules for you to be in this cell."

Gunny shrugged. "I had a word with the guards, they know I'm in here." He returned his attention to Jack. "The guys were a bit rough."

Jack shook his head. "No kidding. So what's this then? An attack of conscience?"

Gunny drummed his fingers on the floor. "No, I don't apologise for my actions. It's how I've survived in this place for the last eight years. I just wanted to ask you something."

Even Jack couldn't quell his curiosity. "Ask me what?"

Gunny pointed to Jack's chest. "In the washroom, I saw it." He hesitated, not quite sure how to continue. "You were there in Iraq, weren't you. I recognised the mark." He looked at O'Neill, and flinched when he saw the ice cold look he now wore. Without another word he lifted up his t-shirt. "Because I see it in the mirror every morning as well."

"And that makes us friends, does it?"

Gunny lowered his t-shirt. "No, it doesn't. But it does mean I made an assumption that led to a mistake."

The ice cold look was disappearing but Jack was nowhere near comfortable. "I thought you never apologised?"

"I don't usually but I can make an exception. Hell I'm in here for breaking the rules." He got to his feet. "Let's just say I screwed up and I'm sorry." He turned to leave.

Jack cleared his throat and waited for Gunny to look round, which he did, eventually. "Apology accepted."

Gunny gave quick nod and left.

Cassie threw her backpack down on the kitchen table in a temper and stomped over to the fridge. It was just a few days before the start of summer vacation and she'd been set a stack of science homework. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, she could have got Sam over to help her, but, having called mom at work, she'd found out that Sam was off world. Which meant she'd have to do it herself. Mom had made it clear that she was busy on base and wouldn't be home until late. Still sulking she opened her bag and pulled her books out.

Opening the soda she rummaged through the pile of books looking for the one she needed, and stopped when she saw the large brown envelope. She put the can down and picked the envelope up. Written on the front of it was: 'Urgent. For Dr Fraiser's eyes only.'

"He must have slipped it into her bag when it was in her locker." Fraiser handed the envelope to Hammond. She wasn't happy that Maybourne had involved Cassie, but she had to admire the man's ingenuity.

Hammond sat back and read the contents. "Well, this is a turn up for the books."

Fraiser nodded in agreement. "It would appear that Dr Warner has taken quite a few trips to Nevada, and not to any military installation."

Hammond held a piece of paper up. "And accumulated a few debts on the way." He shook his head. "Something that the NID could so easily manipulate to their advantage."

Hawker remained seated behind his desk as the two guards led a shackled Neumann into his office.

"That will be all." He dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, ignoring the puzzled looks they exchanged.

As soon as the door closed behind them, he leaned forward. "Neumann, I believe that we share a common interest."

Jack poked at the contents of the bowl with his spoon, not quite sure what it was supposed to be.

"It's good for you. Makes you grow big and strong."

Jack put the spoon down and looked up at the voice, not the least bit surprised to see Gunny settling himself in a seat opposite him at the table.

"If this is oatmeal, then I need to apologise to the canteen at my base. What they serve is gourmet compared to this." He picked his mug of coffee up. "Don't you know you're blowing your reputation by sitting with me?"

Gunny didn't answer, concentrating on the bowl of grits in front of him.

With a sigh Jack picked up his spoon, and forced himself to eat the oatmeal.

Janet had just finished her regular morning team briefing when she got a call from Gate Security.

Taking the elevator to the second floor, she made her way to the visitors' conference room, hesitating before entering.

"Dr Jacobs?" She closed the door behind her and looked at the man already seated at the table.

He quickly rose to his feet and walked over to her, his hand extended. "Dr Fraiser, I assume?"

They shook hands and he returned to his chair, whilst she pulled a chair up next to him. "Dr Jacobs, I was more than a little surprised to learn that you were here."

He nodded and dug into his pocket. "I came because of these." He held a small bottle up. "It's a prescription drug for Colonel O'Neill."

Janet took the bottle from him and, as he had done the day before, read the label before emptying the contents onto the table in front of her.

"These aren't Percocet." She picked up one of the small white pills.

Jacobs smiled. "I'm glad we're in agreement, Doctor. I take it that Colonel O'Neill doesn't take Percocet? Otherwise, he would have immediately noticed a difference. After all, Percocet tablets are twice the size of these suckers." He toyed with one of the tablets. "Besides, I wouldn't have expected a field soldier on active duty to be on Percocet because of the drug's side effects."

Janet put the pills back in the bottle. "Where did you get these?"

"They were amongst the Colonel's belongings. I kind of took them without permission." He shrugged. "They hadn't been logged yet."

Janet felt the relief. "I need to get these analysed. Find out what these tablets really are." She looked at him. "Please…."

He smiled. "I know, don't tell anyone. Look Dr Fraiser, I know something is going on that I won't even pretend to understand, and I know enough to keep my mouth shut."

Janet nodded. "Thank you."

Senator Kinsey was in New York for a major fund raising event for the Republican Party. Already, in political circles, he was tipped to be the next Republican nominee and he had to maintain a high profile. Visibility was the aim of the game once he'd removed the final skeletons from his closet.

In his sumptuous hotel suite he had dismissed his staff for a couple of hours claiming that he had a headache. Kinsey felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the irony of _that _excuse. As soon as the last one had left he pulled a cell phone out of his briefcase, one that was guaranteed to be a secure line, and entered a number.

"Have you found him?"

He listened for a short while, and a smile grew on his face.

"Then take him out now. I'll call back in an hour."

If anyone ever asked him, Harry Maybourne would swear he was born with the ability to sense when things were about to turn bad. Okay, he would admit to the odd lapse, such as allowing O'Neill to bring down his little rogue operation, but he was only human.

This time he knew he wasn't wrong.

Moving quickly, he erased anything that would connect him with Hammond and Fraiser, destroying his laptop, and burning any paper copies.

It was time to run.

The van sat idling around the corner from the motel until word was received to move in.

Expertly the team moved through the shadows avoiding detection, stealthily making their way towards their objective. Communicating only with hand signals, they moved to take their target down.

Only to find the room empty.

Kinsey switched the cell phone off and threw it across the room in disgust.

His visit with Major Donaldson hadn't gone well.

He had sat and listened as the man talked Jack through how he would present the case for the defence, only to become flustered when Jack argued against his reasoning. The debate had become heated as both men became increasingly frustrated. Jack had wanted a date for the court martial but Donaldson had been unable to give him one, and the session had ended with Jack violently shoving his chair backwards as he stood up, and sweeping all the Major's papers onto the floor in a fit of exasperation.

"For cryin' out loud! You talk more than Daniel and Jonas put together. And say far less! I just want something sorted out, before I go totally nuts in here."

At this point the guards had intervened and Jack, despite Donaldson's protests, had been forcibly shackled and led away.

After an afternoon in confinement to 'cool down', Jack was returned to his cell, where he sat and brooded until supper call.

He'd been in the USDB for three weeks now and it was beginning to close in around him. Gunny recognised the signs and was determined to head them off at the pass. Over the past couple of weeks, he and Jack had formed what either man might grudgingly call a friendship, much to the surprise of the other inmates, and Gunny was quickly learning the Colonel's moods because they were so much as his own had been at the beginning of his sentence.

"Hey." He settled into his normal seat opposite Jack. "Long visit with your Major today?"

Jack pushed his tray away. "Not really. Spent most of the afternoon in solitary to gather my thoughts."

Gunny enthusiastically attacked his food. "Threw a temper tantrum then?" It was said round a mouthful of food.

Jack shook his head in disgust. "Gunny, where are your manners? And no, it wasn't a temper tantrum, it was a exhibition of frustration." He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I just feel like nothing is going my way. I can't try to prove my innocence, even to myself, when the only communication I have with the outside world is through a JAG lawyer whose head is stuck up his own ass." He slumped back in his chair. "I think I'm going to go crazy."

Gunny finished his food and gulped down a cup of water. "I have an idea. Come with me."

The lab results were back from the private lab in Denver, delivered to Janet's house by courier. It had been far too risky to have the mystery pills analysed by a military laboratory, so she and the General had stumped up the hefty two thousand dollars fee between them to have it done privately.

Janet sat at her kitchen table staring numbly at the piece of paper in front of her, her mind spinning as she thought about the living hell that Jack's life would slowly have become once he started taking Warner's prescription. The chemicals listed would have caused sleep deprivation, severe mood swings, paranoia … the list of side effects was frightening. And in that state he'd have gradually lost his ability to be tolerant, and deal with challenging circumstances in any sort of reasonable, and balanced, frame of mind. Until, in effect he was not responsible for his own actions.

And in that vulnerable condition Jack had been easily manipulated into a situation where a young man had lost his life.

Janet wanted to be sick.

"How could I have been so stupid!" She said it out loud, smacking her hand down on the table. She needed to see the autopsy report on the cadet.

The therapy was working, Gunny reflected, as he watched Jack pound the living daylights out of the punch bag in the recreation area. With every punch he could see the stress lifting and, after twenty minutes of constant action, Jack finally dropped his arms to his side.

"Feeling better?" He stepped up in front of Jack and indicated for him to hold his hands out before unlacing the boxing gloves.

Jack nodded, too out of breath to answer.

With a grin, Gunny tossed the gloves back in the equipment box.

Neither man noticed Neumann watching from a distance.

The first thing Janet noticed as she entered the General's office was just how tired and stressed the man was looking, and it worried her. In all the years that she had worked with him this was the first time she had seen him like this.

"Sir?"

He looked at her wearily and waved her to a chair. "Any news?" He leaned forward in his chair, resting his hands on his desk.

She put the file she had been holding on his desk. "The results on the pills came back, it's as we suspected." Surprised that he made no move to pick the file up, she continued. "Have you heard from Maybourne, sir?"

"Maybourne's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

Hammond sighed. "He said they were on to him and he had to go. He can't help anymore." He shook his head. "I'm at a loss about how to continue."

Janet looked at him in disbelief. "Sir?"

He slumped back in his chair. "Last night I sat down and I read Jack's file, his mission reports . . . how many times he's unselfishly put his country ahead of his own personal safety . . . everything." He shrugged. "And now he's suffering because some ambitious, selfish people have decided he's a threat to them."

"Sir . . ."

He shook his head. "I don't have any proof that it's Kinsey and I was relying on Maybourne to get it, but he's failed." He cleared his throat. "Jack's in prison because of me."

Janet's eyes narrowed. "And how did you come to that conclusion, sir?"

"Jack has a disk, a disk that would destroy Kinsey's political aspirations. He obtained that disk, and deliberately put himself in harm's way, because he wanted to protect me and my family."

She took a deep breath. "Where's the disk?"

It was hard to keep the surprise off his face when he saw his latest patient being escorted into the infirmary, and decided that this was one he was going to handle himself.

"Long time no see, Gunny." Jacobs pointed to an empty gurney. "Take a seat."

Gunny, cradling his left hand, got up onto the gurney and waited for Jacobs to continue.

"So, what happened?" Jacobs gently took hold of the injured hand and began his examination. The hand was swelling up and the bruising was going to be spectacular.

Gunny shrugged, wincing at the pain the movement caused. "I managed to slam my hand in a door. Stupid really."

Jacobs sighed. "I won't disagree with that." He went over to one of the cupboards and returned with a icepack. He laid it across the swollen hand. "You'll need an x-ray but I don't think anything's broken. I'll get someone to do the x-ray." He turned to leave.

"Doc?"

The tone of voice made Jacobs stop in mid-stride and he turned back to look at the inmate.

"Yes, Gunny?"

"I need to talk to you about someone." Gunny looked uncomfortable. "I need to talk about Jack O'Neill."

Jacobs frowned and moved back to stand in front of Gunny. "Is he okay?"

Gunny lifted up his injured hand. "I think it's safe to say that that would be a no."

Jacobs pulled up a stool and sat down. "Are you telling me you slammed your own hand in a door so you could get a chance to talk to me about Colonel O'Neill?"

Gunny ignored the question. "Doc, you've got to do something. He's climbing the walls." He sighed. "I've done all I can, but it's not working and it won't be too long before he goes ballistic."

"And do what?" Jacobs looked straight at him.

"He's not handling the lockdown at night, so he ain't sleeping. He's not getting the answers he needs from JAG, no contact from the outside, and it's all making him stir crazy. Hell, Hawker's had him in confinement three times this week which just makes it worse. It's like the bastard's got it in for him. The slightest thing and he ends up in solitary." Gunny fiddled with the icepack. "He's going to blow, and it ain't going to be pretty."

Jacobs sat back and thought about it.

He'd read O'Neill's medical file. Four months as a POW in Iraq was not the kind of background to make a man happy about being confined. And stretches in solitary were not going to help in any way at all. Gunny was right when he said it was as if Hawker had something against the Colonel. Every time he was pulled in front of the governor by the guards for infringing the rules he got time in solitary, a punishment that was guaranteed to push the man closer and closer to the edge. And the guards seemed to have their eyes on O'Neill a lot, watching for the slightest thing.

Jacobs wondered if he should try and speak to Hawker. After all the welfare of prisoners was his responsibility.

Finally he looked back at Gunny. "Then he's got to get sick enough to be brought back to the infirmary."

Gunny frowned. "And how's that gonna happen?"

Jacobs smiled. "Leave that to me. Go get your hand x-rayed."

For what was probably the millionth time Janet wished the rest of SG1 were back at base, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. Each time Sam put a request for the team to return to Earth something else happened at the Alpha site which required them to remain. Janet was more than suspicious, knowing that Hammond and Sam's father, Jacob, were undoubtedly behind the conspiracy to keep SG1 off world.

The autopsy report was back on the dead cadet and she had reviewed it, but could see nothing wrong with the findings. The young man had died from a massive cranial bleed and the pathologist had surmised that the blows received in the attack had weakened a blood vessel in the brain, which had then ruptured a couple of days after the attack.

The autopsy had been methodical and all avenues explored. There was nothing she could dispute.

She was beginning to feel like General Hammond.

Gunny, his hand heavily bandaged, entered the mess hall and located Jack, sitting as usual on a table in the far corner on his own. Ignoring the food, he went straight to the coffee urn and snagged two mugs, slipping a tiny pill into one of the mugs, before walking over to join his friend.

"Hey." He sat down at the table. "Brought you more coffee." He pushed the laced beverage in front of Jack.

Jack ignored the coffee and his eyes locked on the bandaged hand. "Heard you were in the infirmary. How is it?"

Gunny shrugged. "I've had worse."

Jack didn't ask any more questions and eventually, much to Gunny's relief, he began to drink the coffee.

"Doctor Fraiser?" Lieutenant Gomez hovered on the doorway looking into the doctor's office. "I was going down to the commissary and wondered if you wanted anything?"

Janet looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of her. "No, I'm fine. Thanks anyway."

Gomez nodded, turned to leave, and then changed her mind. "Doctor Fraiser, could I ask you something?"

Janet pushed the paperwork to one side and indicated a chair. "Of course." She smiled, "any excuse to ignore the paper mountain. What's up?"

Gomez sat down and immediately began fiddling with the ring on her finger. Janet watched the action and looked concerned, Gomez had only just got engaged. "Maria, is everything okay with your fiancé?"

Gomez looked at her in surprise and nodded her head adamantly. "Yes, Josh and I are doing great." She sighed. "It's about something that happened here when you were in Washington." 

"Something?"

Gomez looked at the paperwork on the desk. "There was a drug discrepancy." She paused for a long time. Then, "I didn't report it properly." She looked upset. "Dr Warner told me it was probably a miscount and I shouldn't worry about it."

Janet frowned. "He said that?" A few weeks ago she would have been surprised to find Warner had said anything that indicated such poor management, but now it was just another suspicious item to add to the list against the man. "What drug was it?"

"Potassium chloride."

Janet looked at Gomez in shock.

Gunny had watched Jack go back to his cell and took note of the time, knowing that the drug would take effect about thirty minutes after being taken. Jacobs had warned him that it would make Jack dizzy and nauseous, the symptoms strong enough to call for admittance to the infirmary. Keeping a close eye on the time, he returned to his game of pool.

Twenty minutes later he called the game quits, and headed for the stairs leading to Jack's cell. Only to find his way blocked by two of the three new guards, whose arrival a few days back hadn't been missed by Gunny. They were big and burly, and seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in Hawker's company.

"Get out of my way." He went to push past them but they didn't budge. He sensed the third new guard, who had been leaning against the wall, move up behind him and he felt something sharp being pressed into the small of his back. He gave in, glancing anxiously towards Jack's cell, before letting himself be led away.

With Gunny out of the way, Neumann and two inmates slipped into Jack's cell.

Jack had been lying on his bunk, trying to ignore just how crap he was feeling, when his uninvited guests arrived. Seeing Neumann he struggled to his feet, disregarding the fact that everything was spinning.

"Get the hell out, Neumann."

Neumann grinned and shook his head. "You no longer outrank me, O'Neill. I don't have to listen to you."

Jack took a step forward and staggered, opening up the perfect opportunity for Neumann. He didn't know what was up with O'Neill but it was definitely working to his advantage. Within seconds his cohorts had Jack in a hold, remembering Neumann's warnings that they couldn't mark him, and had forced him into a corner on the floor. Jack was struggling weakly but his body was uncooperative, and he slumped back.

Neumann knelt down in front of him and pulled out his trump card – holding it in front of Jack's face. "The disgraced Colonel couldn't face a court martial, the humiliation of a prison sentence, and the end of his career. So he decided to take his own life." He gloated.

Jack began struggling again with every last vague trace of energy he had, pulling weakly against the hands that restrained him. His eyes locked on the razor blade in Neumann's hands. But to no avail. His body seemed drained of any strength whatsoever.

He could only watch in horrified fascination as Neumann made his move.

Gunny was found twenty minutes later in a shower stall, he was naked and the water was still running. It was assumed that somehow he had managed to slip and knock himself out. And a medical team was called.

Jacobs had been surprised when he'd got the call for a medical team to go down onto the floor. The pill would have made Jack sick, but he should still have been well enough to be brought up to the infirmary by the guards.

Reaching the guard room, he waited anxiously for lockdown to be confirmed.

"What have we got?"

One of the guards looked at him. "Gunny. He slipped and knocked himself out in the shower."

Jacobs leaned against the wall and thought, 'Shit'.

The buzzer sounded, confirming lockdown, and the medical team were led to the washroom where they worked quickly and efficiently. Within ten minutes Gunny, still unconscious, was on his way to the infirmary but without Jacobs.

"Doc?" The guard he'd spoken to while waiting for lockdown, tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

Jacobs sighed. "I need you to check on O'Neill." Seeing the guard's questioning look, he shrugged. "Trust me. Please check on O'Neill."

The guard looked across at one of his colleagues. "Mike, the Doc wants a check on O'Neill. Can you do it?"

The other guard nodded. "Sure." He left the washroom and Jacobs found himself pacing, and trying to ignore the feeling of dread.

A couple of minutes later the shout went up and he was running.

With two other guards in tow, and out of breath by the time he reached the first floor landing, Jacobs was unprepared for the sight that met him as he rushed into the cell.

Jack was slumped in a corner, the blood pooling around him. His arms were resting on his thighs with the cuts across his wrists clearly on display. His skin was white, almost bleached, providing a stark contrast to the deep crimson of the blood that was soaking his uniform, and spreading out, obscenely, across the floor. As Jacobs moved closer he could see that Jack was still breathing, but there was a worrying tinge of blue on his lips.

Recovering from the initial shock, he yanked the sheets off the bunk and began tearing them up.

"Get another medical team down here now!" Grabbing the first wrist, he worked fast, using the sheets as bandages. "I need help!"

One of the guards stepped forward and Jacobs had him press down on the covered wounds to try to prevent any further blood loss. He then bandaged the second wrist, and held on to it for dear life.

It took two hours to repair the damaged inflicted by the razor blades, and to restore his blood volume, but eventually Jack was rolled out of the small surgical room and settled in a bed next to a frantic Gunny.

"Doc?" He stared in disbelief at the heavily bandaged wrists before letting his eyes drift to the face of his friend, his features obscured by the oxygen mask. "How's he doing?"

Jacobs shot him a tired glance as he checked the IV lines to make sure none of them had kinked in the transfer. "He'll be fine, Gunny. The cuts weren't deep enough to cause permanent nerve damage, but he lost a hell of a lot of blood."

Gunny slumped back in his bed. "They got to him and because of me he wasn't in a fit state to fight them."

"What happened?" Jacobs took a seat at Jack's bedside and looked at Gunny.

"I slipped him the pill and kept an eye on the clock, as you said. When it was time I went to get him, and got ambushed. I was dragged into the showers and next thing I know I wake up here." Gunny looked around in disgust. "I saw them going into his cell. It was a set up."

Jacobs nodded. "I kind of figured that. It was clever. You look like you slipped in the shower." He checked the monitors again. "And Jack looks like a suicide (attempt)."

Gunny looked at his friend, concerned. "What will happen to him?"

Jacobs took a deep breath. "Hawker will put him on suicide watch and, once he's well enough to be discharged, they'll put him in solitary."

"Potassium Chloride." Janet looked at General Hammond, triumphantly.

"Excuse me?" Hammond wasn't in the mood to play games as he looked at his Chief Medical Officer.

Janet explained, "A large dose of Potassium Chloride would kill instantly." She hesitated. "And it wouldn't be picked up in an autopsy unless you suspected foul play."

Hammond looked confused. "And how did you come up with Potassium Chloride?"

Janet put a piece of paper down on the desk on front of him. "The day that Cadet Johnsondied, a vial of Potassium Chloride went missing from the controlled drugs cabinet. One of my nurses questioned it, but Warner buried it. She fessed up to me today and I did some investigating." She smiled. "Johnson's scans showed a possible weakness to a blood vessel in his brain, but it wasn't severe and only required observation, not surgical intervention. The cause of death was recorded as a massive haemorrhage, but I don't think it was a haemorrhage."

Hammond gave a low whistle. "The autopsy was rigged?"

"Yes, sir. I believe it was."

They looked at each in silence until a knock on the door interrupted them.

"How is he?" Janet had driven through the night to reach Leavenworth after the phone call from Jacobs.

Jacobs held up his hand to stop the frantic questions. "He's stable and showing signs of regaining consciousness." He led her down the corridor. "Remember, Dr Fraiser, you need to be careful. I have you signed in as a consultant on another patient, so don't draw attention to yourself."

They stopped outside the infirmary doors. "I can give you an hour with him. Use it wisely."

Janet nodded her thanks and entered the infirmary, her eyes scanning the large room. She finally located him and, keeping cool, walked over to his bed.

"Colonel?" She felt her stomach flip in shock as she reached the side of the bed. "What have they done to you?" She whispered quietly, as she reached over gently and began stroking his hair. "Why is it you can't keep out of trouble, sir?"

Gunny watched her from the next bed, mesmerised as the woman kept talking, scolding his friend gently for his latest predicament and then watched with interest as Jack's eyes flickered open.

"Doc?"

Janet smiled. "Hey, sir." She settled down on a stool at his bedside. "Dr Jacobs called me, and said you were giving him a hard time." She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about everything." 

He coughed and, as if reading his mind, she retrieved a beaker of iced water from the table and allowed him a few sips. "I know that you're probably not in the best of moods to talk, sir, but I've only got a little time."

He nodded and struggled to sit up. Jacobs stepped forward and adjusted the head of the bed to give him better support, checking that he was comfortable. It was then that he saw Gunny.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Gunny shrugged. "I slipped, apparently." The sarcasm wasn't lost on the others.

"Neumann." Jack looked angry. "I'm gonna kill him." 

"And what's that going to achieve?" Janet shook her head. "We need to concentrate on getting you out of here."

Jack clenched his fists, wincing as the stitches on his wrists pulled. "That's just not gonna happen, Doc. I'll killed a man."

"No, you didn't." She put her hand on his arm, above the bandages. "The General and I have been doing a little investigating with the help of some others." She glanced at Jacobs. "You didn't kill the cadet. Warner did."

Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Warner? Excuse me if I appear to be a bit slow on the uptake, but I don't think the witnesses could mistake me for Warner."

Janet smiled again. "No, you did hit the cadet." She paused, before continuing, "But let's just say you weren't yourself. The medication Warner had you on for your headaches, sir. You were set up and very cleverly. So much so that we're struggling to pull it all together and find the proof as to who _is_ behind it."

Jack closed his eyes briefly as if working it out in his own mind, and then snapped them open. "It was Kinsey, that sonofabitch. The disk."

"Sir, we are going to need the disk to get you out of here." Janet squeezed his arm. "Before it gets you killed."

Jack shook his head. "No." He said stubbornly. "If Kinsey found out that you had the disk he'd come after you in the same way he did me, and I'm not putting you in that kind of danger." He was beginning to feel light headed, the conversation tiring him out. "You've got to think of Cassie."

"She won't forgive me if you end up dead."

Gunny climbed gingerly out of bed, ignoring the thumping headache. "Listen to her, Jack. Neumann got to you – and he got to you easily. The guards took me out, on Hawker's orders no doubt." He pointed at the bandages. "As soon as he can he'll have you out of the infirmary and into solitary on suicide watch. Do you honestly think you can handle that? Stuck in a tiny cell for twenty three hours a day, no one to talk to, nothing to do? Give her the damn disk, whatever it is. Something tells me she can handle herself okay."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Gunny." Jack was beginning to feel seriously tired now, and it reflected in his voice.

Gunny shook his head. "I may not know anything about the damn disk but if it'll help get you out of solitary quicker then give it to her. If I was facing solitary for more than a couple of days, I'd do anything to prevent it." He moved closer to Jack. "Remember, I've seen the scar . . . I went through it as well."

Jack knew when he was beaten. "Okay." He turned his attention back to Janet. "I'll tell you where the damn disk is."

Hawker drummed his fingers nervously on his desk as he stared at the frozen image on the video screen.

He'd been suspicious when the reception guards had informed him that Dr Jacobs had signed in a colleague for a consultation. He'd been keeping an eye on the infirmary reports because of O'Neill, and nowhere had it been noted that any patients would need a second opinion.

Not recognising the name logged, he'd ordered the security tapes to see the visitor for himself.

He'd recognised her immediately.

And began to panic.

"You're doing fine, Gunny." Jacobs made a note on his chart. "I want you to stay one more night and then I'll discharge you."

"Are you sure, Doc?" Gunny glanced across at his sleeping friend.

Jacobs smiled. "He's doing fine. His BP is almost back to normal and the wounds are beginning to heal nicely, there's no sign of infection. We'll keep an eye on him."

Gunny sighed. "You can't let them put him in solitary."

Jack shifted in his sleep, and both men held their breath until he settled back down again.

Jacobs indicated to his office. "Let's talk in there."

Gunny nodded, climbing out of bed. Pulling a robe on he followed the doctor into the small office, closing the door behind them.

"Okay," Jacobs sat on the edge of his desk. "Tell me why?"

"As I said before, he doesn't even handle lockdown too well. So what do you think is going to happen to him when he gets put into solitary, on suicide watch, for an extended time? He's not gonna cope with being cooped up on his own. No way. And it'll be even easier to claim he went nuts and killed himself. They set him up before to try and make it look like he committed suicide. What d'you think'll happen if they get him in solitary? His life won't be worth a dime."

"I'll insist on at least two medical checks a day, and if he looks like he's not coping, or anything looks out of order, I can authorise his transfer back to the infirmary.

Gunny paced up and down the tiny room. "Doc, you're missing the point." He stopped pacing and turned to look at the doctor. "He was a P.O.W." He slumped down into the nearest chair. "Any amount of time in a confined space isn't going to be a bundle of laughs for him. Especially at the moment, when he's already hurting."

Jacobs watched him carefully. "How do you know he was a P.O.W? Somehow I don't think O'Neill goes round volunteering that sort of information."

"Because he's got the mark, just like me."

Jacobs frowned. "On his chest?" It suddenly dawned on him that both men had identical marks carved into their skin. "What does it mean?"

Gunny took a deep breath. "It means that you got caught by the Iraqis, who . . . beat on you." He paused, and Jacobs saw that it was hard for the big man to talk about this. Even now, years afterwards. "They . . . tortured you for information. Then, after a couple of weeks . . . when you were judged as old news, you were . . . branded with the mark and slung in a pit. During the day the temperature was over 100 degrees, at night it was almost freezing. The walls began to close in on you. You started to hallucinate due to lack of food and water. Every so often the guards would remember you existed. Throw you a few rancid scraps of food. Give you a cup of filthy water. To keep you alive. So if they got bored they could . . . still . . . have fun . . . spitting on you . . . shouting abuse at you . . . humiliating you . . ." Gunny looked up, and finished quietly, "Do you get the picture?"

"Why the mark?" Jacobs was horrified by the story, but he had to ask.

Gunny shook his head slowly. "If somehow you managed to escape, or you were lucky enough to win a Red Cross release, if you were ever caught again they could easily identify you . . . and shoot you . . . instead of wasting their hospitality on you again."

For a moment, the doctor was quiet trying hard to imagine something of what these two men had suffered. He'd read O'Neill's file, but words on a page didn't paint the same vivid picture that Gunny's spoken account had done. He leaned forward in his seat. "Somehow I don't think that Hawker is going to change the rules for him. No matter what I say."

Gunny scowled. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

Jacobs frowned. "You're certain that Hawker is involved?"

"Hell, yes." Gunny looked deadly serious. "I was taken down by his new pet guards and everyone else turned a blind eye. Hawker has to be involved."

Jacobs rubbed his tired eyes. "Then I guess I'm going to have to play Hawker at his own game."

There were standard procedures to be followed when a body was brought into the morgue at the Air Force Academy Hospital, which included the taking of blood samples to aid in the autopsy. What most people didn't know was while one set of samples was used for autopsy testing, a second set was stored separately as back up should something happen to the first set. It was a procedure that Janet had put in place and one that she hoped Warner and the pathologist who had done the cadet's autopsy didn't know about. There was no reason why they should. It was the technicians who were responsible for the collecting and storing of samples. And they should have just done the procedure automatically and just presented Warner with the first set. There should have been no need for anyone to mention the reserve set.

It was simply a case of whether the technicians, in their thoroughness, had thrown Cadet Johnson's samples away after the autopsy was officially completed. Or, whether, with an investigation currently ongoing, they might have held onto them, awaiting instructions.

It was late as she slipped into the small storage room which led off from the main morgue area, glancing around to make sure no one saw her.

Ignoring her pounding heart, she found the right sample drawer and slid it open, letting the chilled air escape, and began searching through the test tubes.

Her finger stilled as she finally saw the name she was looking for and a date that matched. Saying a quick "thank you" to God, she retrieved the sample.

Now she needed the disk.

His wrists ached, the pain intensifying each time he moved his hands, but he didn't want anything to ease it.

He had make a big mistake, he'd misjudged Kinsey and because of that a young man was dead, and both Hammond and Fraiser were putting their lives at risk.

The hope that he'd felt when talking to Janet was beginning to fade and in its place came the depression. Settling over him like a heavy cloud. Caused by the sense that he was being ensnared by wires of fate over which he had no control. That he could feel tightening around him with every passing day. And which he had to rely on others to remove.

When Gunny gently shook him awake early in the morning to say goodbye, he barely acknowledged his presence before rolling over onto his side, presenting his back to his friend.

Subsequently, he missed the worried looks exchanged between Gunny and Jacobs.

Hammond read the report and then looked at his CMO who, by now, was looking extremely tired.

"Are you certain that it was the Potassium Chloride that killed him?"

Janet nodded. "Positive, sir. Potassium Chloride would have been present in his blood because it was in his prescribed IV, but my test proves that it was lethal dose. It caused a massive cardiac arrest. That was what killed the poor boy, not a massive bleed. With this evidence we can get the Colonel freed, surely?"

Hammond shook his head. "It only proves that the Colonel didn't kill Cadet Johnson. But all that will do is change the charge back to assault. It won't be enough to free him."

Janet's shoulders slumped. "But we have the lab results on the drugs Warner gave the Colonel."

Hammond rose and moved over to the coffee pot. "But no proof that Colonel O'Neill was under the influence of the drugs when he attacked Johnson." He poured a mug of coffee and brought it back to the desk, handing it to Janet, who accepted it gratefully. "We need the disk."

In less than a week it was going to be announced that he had won the Republican nomination for the Presidential race. Yet Senator Kinsey was still not a happy man.

The evidence that could bring his world crashing down around him was still out there.

Time was running out, and he had to step up the pace.

Gunny was out for blood, not just anyone's blood, he was after Neumann's blood and he didn't care how he got it.

After his discharge from the infirmary he had been returned to his cell, as Jacobs had given orders that excused Gunny from work detail for the next few days. It gave Gunny time to prepare himself for his confrontation with Neumann.

The clang of metal doors and the low murmur of men signalled the end of work detail and Gunny left his cell to stand on the metal walkway, looking down as the inmates returned. Some went straight to their cells, whilst others remained in the communal area. He scanned them all and finally located his target.

Neumann had miscalculated big time and it was only when he saw Gunny bearing down on him that he realised it. Glancing around anxiously, he suddenly realised that the entire area was lacking any guards.

"Gun….." He didn't complete the word as Gunny grabbed him by the neck and began dragging him towards the washrooms. Several inmates made to interfere, but one look from Gunny made them stand down.

By the time they reached the washroom Neumann had gone purple in the face from lack of oxygen and, as Gunny let go of his grip, he slumped to the floor gasping for breath and massaging his neck.

Gunny stood over him, his eyes blazing. "You are one stupid, fucking, piece of shit, Neumann. Did you know that?"

Neumann, still wheezing, pulled himself to his feet and glared at Gunny. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Gunny snorted, the sound echoing around the tiled room. "The little trick with the razor blade? You're so pathetic you couldn't even get that right. Couldn't finish the job. So, I found out. You friggin' bastard. I said O'Neill was off limits, remember? But no, you got mixed in over your head you filthy, worthless low-life. Did you even stop to think that I'd believe he did it to himself? What did Hawker promise you? A few luxuries, a little time off your sentence?" He shook his head in disgust. "You're an idiot. Hawker knew I'd be back and I wouldn't take too kindly to O'Neill's predicament. And do you know what? For once Hawker's right. I'm not taking it too well, and pounding on you will probably make me feel a whole lot better. Then I will pound on your mates who held him down while you slit his wrists and, as I beat the crap out of them, I'll tell them you gave me their names. Word will travel and, as you know, life will become pretty tough for you."

"The guards will know that you attacked me." Neumann's voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

Gunny gave an evil smile. "And they'll do nothing about it, will they? Hawker will sweep it under the carpet. Make sure you never get to speak to anyone. Maybe even conveniently end up dead. Hey, look what happened with O'Neill's attack. Do you see me being punished?"

Neumann opened his mouth but then realised that he had nothing to say to refute Gunny's statement.

Gunny stepped closer to him. "We can, however, make a deal."

"Deal? What kind of deal?" Neumann licked his lips nervously.

Gunny jabbed his finger into Neumann's chest. "I want you to make a statement to O'Neill's attorney. I want you to tell him about Hawker and what deals you made with him."

The shouts of young children filtered into the locker room as Hammond studied the locker numbers, eventually locating the one he wanted.

Checking that no one was around, he pulled out a set of lock picks and within a few seconds had the door open. Pushing aside the hockey equipment that had been thrown inside by its owner, he found what he was looking for.

Slipping the disk into his inside jacket pocket, he hurried left the municipal hockey rink.

Unaware that he was being watched.

After yet another failed attempt at getting a meeting with Hawker, Jacobs stormed into his infirmary to be greeted by the sight of Jack – out of bed and dressed in the familiar orange overalls. He was silently studying the floor. His eyes flickered up as Jacobs came in, then went back to scrutinising the ground. He looked pale and drawn, but otherwise quietly controlled. Two guards waited to one side.

"What the hell is going on around here?" He pointed at Jack. "You! Get back into bed."

"Dr Jacobs, sir." One of the guards stepped forward. "We've been ordered to transfer the prisoner to solitary confinement."

Jacobs glared at him. "Who ordered that?"

"I did." Hawker stepped out of Jacobs' office. "I heard that you wanted to talk with me so I came to see you." He smiled in quiet oily triumph. "You weren't here and I got talking to the prisoner. I was under the impression he wasn't ready to leave but he looks well enough to me. In fact, he confirmed that he was ready to leave."

Jacobs fought the urge to punch the smarmy look off the man's face. "Colonel Hawker, I can assure you that O'Neill is not ready to be released."

Hawker shrugged. "As I recall, you are quite the advocate for prisoners' rights? So, surely, if he says he's ready to leave, you have to respect his wishes?" He nodded to the guards. "Please transfer the prisoner. Now."

The guards moved to flank Jack, and Jacobs could only watch helplessly as Jack was led out of the infirmary. At least this time it was without shackles.

Hawker gave Jacobs a smug look and then followed them.

Jacobs went into his office, slammed the door shut, and began throwing things around.

Hammond was on the mountain road leading up to the SGC when the van moved up to tailgate him.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, his instincts told him that this was trouble and he squeezed his foot down on the accelerator.

The van matched his speed and then moved up a gear, nudging the General's rear bumper.

Hammond responded by pressing the accelerator to the floor, but it soon became woefully clear that the van had a far superior engine. Several more nudges caused his car to swerve, and he struggled to keep the car on the road.

Then the van seemed to back off, falling a little way behind. But Hammond wasn't fooled as he kept his speed up. Looking again the rear-view mirror he saw the van speed up again and this time he knew it was going to hit hard. He waited for the impact but only heard a series of loud 'pops' followed by the squeal of tyres. Looking again, he saw the van swerve off the road and hit a tree.

On the road now was another car, which sped up until level with Hammond's vehicle. Looking sideways the General found Maybourne signalling for him to pull over.

Moving over to the side of the road, Hammond brought the car to a halt and grabbed his cell phone. By the time he had finished barking orders for a security team to join him, Maybourne had parked up behind him and was walking over to join him.

"Hey, General."

Hammond tossed his cell phone back into the car and shook his head in disbelief. "Maybourne, how the hell did you know . . . ?"

Maybourne looked serious. "A couple of days ago, people started taking a high interest in what you and the good doctor were up to. They knew Fraiser had been at Leavenworth and jumped to a few conclusions." He shrugged. "So here I am. I gather you have the disk?"

Hammond nodded. "How did you know?"

"It didn't take a brain surgeon to guess that you were going to go for the disk. I saw Doctor Fraiser arrive on base last night and she had her daughter with her. With Janet on site I knew it would be you, so I followed you. I saw the tail pick you up."

Hammond leaned against his car. "Damn."

Maybourne glanced back at the van. "You could say that." He returned his attention to the General. "I guess I'm back in the game and I need an update."

Major Donaldson eyed Neumann suspiciously. "This is highly irregular. I can't possibly understand why you requested to see me."

Neumann glowered at the man. "No wonder O'Neill doesn't think he's got a hope in hell's chance of getting out of here." He shook his head in disgust. "So why don't you shut up, sit down, and listen to what I have to say?"

Neumann watched as Donaldson did as he said, fiddling with his briefcase, and bit back yet another sarcastic remark. He was well aware that Hawker would find out that he had met with O'Neill's lawyer and there would be repercussions. But, in Neumann's warped mind, selling Hawker out would be easier than facing life in the USDB tagged as a 'squealer'. Hell, he knew that Gunny must have some favours owed to him to get this meeting set up in the first place.

And if Hawker's world came crashing down, maybe that would get him off Neumann's back.

"They want O'Neill dead."

Donaldson stopped fiddling with his briefcase, and stared at Neumann. "Who wants him dead?"

Neumann fixed him with a steely glare. "I don't know who he's working for but I was acting under orders from Colonel Hawker. He told me to make it look like suicide, but it didn't work, so they're gonna get him to him in solitary."

"How?" Donaldson was now all business.

"Dunno." Neumann shrugged dismissively. "But you can guess it ain't gonna be pretty. Some folks sure want O'Neill outta the way. You need to work fast."

A heavily disguised Maybourne followed Hammond into his office and, as the door closed, he grinned and slumped down into a chair. "Well, that was fun."

Hammond pulled the blinds across the window that looked out into the briefing room and scowled. "I'll call Dr Fraiser." He moved to pick the telephone up, only to be interrupted by an urgent knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" Hammond exchanged looks with Maybourne.

"General, it's Doctor Fraiser. I need to speak with you immediately."

Hammond frowned. "Come in, Doctor."

The door swung open and an upset looking Janet entered the office. She immediately saw Maybourne but didn't comment.

"Sir, I just got a call from Dr Jacobs at the USDB. They moved Jack into solitary." She ran a hand through her hair. "He thinks they're going to make another move on Jack."

Maybourne nodded in agreement. "It makes sense, General." He pondered out loud, "Getting rid of Jack was a gamble before. They still needed to find the disk." He looked at the others. "Jack's completely expendable, now. They think they know where the disk is. They probably haven't heard yet that their attempt on your life hasn't been successful. And they think their team has the disk!"

Janet looked alarmed. "What attempt?"

Hammond held his hand up. "Someone tried to run me off the road. Maybourne saved me."

The phone rang and Hammond picked it up. "Hammond."

After a few minutes he put the phone down and looked at Maybourne and Janet. "That was Jack's JAG attorney. Someone has just implicated Hawker, but we need to move fast." He looked at Maybourne. "You were right. Jack's in serious trouble."

Still recovering from the loss of blood, Jack leaned back against the corner of his cell.

He wanted to sleep, but couldn't. Ghostlike images of the dead cadet kept washing in and out of his mind. A few memories of that incident had started to filter back. Nothing much, but enough to disturb him.

And he relived being helpless as Neumann drew the razor blade across his wrists. Being held down and powerless as his life's blood flowed out onto the floor.

He shook himself, and forced himself to get off the bunk and move around.

It took all of thirty second for him to pace his new home. Just thirty seconds.

It was so small and enclosed. Pressing in on him.

Oppressing.

Depressing.

It reminded him of . . .

He slumped back down onto his bunk.

And fought the surge of memories of another time and place that threatened to overwhelm him.

Hammond glanced at his watch impatiently and silently urged the driver to step on it. On his lap he held the file of evidence, evidence he was going to present to a friend of his. Someone who had influence at JAG.

They had been on the road for four hours and it would take a further hour to reach his destination. A long time. Time he wasn't sure that Jack O'Neill had.

Fraiser flinched as she heard the familiar voice but she managed to force a smile as she turned round to greet him.

"Doctor Warner."

Warner walked across to her and they shook hands. "You called me in for a second opinion?" He looked around the empty infirmary. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to be lacking a patient to consult on?"

Fraiser shook her head. "It must have been a miscommunication. I asked you here because I've been reviewing Colonel O'Neill's medical chart, and I've got a few questions about some medication he's been on."

"Questions?"

Fraiser nodded. "Why don't we discuss this in my office?"

Now wearing the look of a trapped animal, Warner followed her into the office, where she closed the door behind them.

Sitting down behind her desk, she looked across at Warner. "With everything that has happened to the Colonel, I thought that I would review his medical notes." She rested her hand on the file in front of her. "Needless to say I was more than a little surprised to find out that you had been prescribing Percocet."

Warner shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "The Colonel was in considerable pain and Percocet seemed to be the only thing that eased it. He wasn't scheduled to go off world so I deemed it safe for him to take it for a short time."

Janet nodded. "That's perfectly plausible." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a small pill bottle. "However," she unscrewed the lid and shook a couple of the pills out onto the desk, "if I'm very much mistaken, these are not Percocet."

Warner cleared his throat. "I didn't give those to Colonel O'Neill."

The smile had vanished from Janet's face. "Oh, I beg to differ, Doctor Warner. Several of my nurses will testify having seen you give these pills to the Colonel." She put the pills back in the bottle. "I had them analysed and let's just say the results were very interesting – going a long way to explain Colonel O'Neill's actions. But you already know that."

Warner got to his feet. "I don't have to listen to these ridiculous accusations."

"No you don't. However, I'm sure that your superiors would be interested to learn about your gambling debts." Janet also got to her feet. "In fact, at this very moment General Hammond is meeting with someone at JAG to go through all the evidence we have. They will be learning about your gambling addictions and your part in this whole set up." She hesitated before continuing. "General Hammond will also be presenting the true results from Cadet Johnson's autopsy."

In the background, she saw the SFs move into place.

"So, maybe you should get your story in before it's too late?"

By the time Warner was finished telling his story, he had not only implicated himself and Kinsey, he had also implicated Dr McKenzie.

They left the light on constantly.

And in a windowless cell, estimating the time of day was a no go.

He'd paced the cell for what seemed like an eternity.

Trying to wear himself out enough to sleep.

He was all slept out.

The walls were closing in on him.

He could feel waves of panic rolling up inside him.

Being totally unconnected from the outside world in a silent, timeless, capsule, with only his own depressing thoughts for company was pushing him to the brink.

He fought the fear. Pushed down the panic. Tried hard to control the memories that swelled up. Of other walls. In another prison.

Pushing himself back hard against the bunk he tried to stay in the present, and not get lost in the past.

Felt his heart pounding. Breathed deeply, and scrubbed his hands desperately across his face.

Felt his control slipping away.

At the same time as Hammond reached his JAG contact, Maybourne arrived at his destination.

Hawker slammed the phone down and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Courtesy of the hidden bugs in the interview room he had heard every word of Neumann's conversation with Donaldson.

He'd tried to call Kinsey but the number he'd been given was dead.

It was time to go but first he wanted to make sure that O'Neill didn't leave Leavenworth alive. At least he could have that satisfaction.

Jacobs had been stuck with an emergency appendectomy for the majority of the day leaving no time to check on O'Neill in solitary. He hadn't even had time to check his messages.

After ensuring that his patient was stable, he grabbed his messages of his desk and flicked through them.

The one from Dr Fraiser made his blood run cold.

Jack heard the door being unlocked but he couldn't summon the energy to look up from where he was sitting on the floor.

Someone entered the room, and then the door closed.

Donaldson sat in his car in the visitor's parking area, staring at his cell phone, willing it to ring.

Doctor Fraiser had called him and updated him on everything.

Now he was waiting for orders from his office.

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

Hawker looked down at the man sitting on the floor, not believing that he'd sold his military career down the river for this.

"Get up, O'Neill."

Jack didn't move.

Hawker repeated himself. "Get up, O'Neill."

Jack slowly lifted his head up and took in the dress blues. "Kinsey's monkey, I presume?" He said wearily.

Hawker scowled. "Get up, O'Neill."

"And if I don't?" Jack's mind was beginning to sharpen up as he realised that Hawker's appearance was significant. The man was an idiot. He'd locked himself in a cell with his enemy.

Hawker took a step forward and Jack saw the glint of a knife. Okay, maybe not such an idiot.

He moved fast, taking Hawker by surprise. Lashing out with his feet, he brought Hawker crashing to the floor, and the knife flew out of his grip under the bunk.

Hawker struggled to regain his footing but Jack was on him, pinning him to ground. Twisting around, Hawker caught Jack in the side, hitting the newly healed ribs. Jack let out a gasp and involuntarily relaxed his hold. It was all Hawker needed and he pushed out from under him, going for Jack's weak point – his wrists. Pressing down hard on the bandages he heard O'Neill hiss with pain.

Jacobs had found his route to solitary blocked by guards he didn't recognise, and began to panic.

Backtracking, he made his way back to the infirmary. He needed to rethink. And fast.

Donaldson almost jumped out of his skin when the telephone rang.

Hawker's hands were slick with blood. He had torn open O'Neill's stitches but he couldn't keep hold of him.

O'Neill was tiring. His arms felt like they were on fire, and he was beginning to feel faint from the loss of blood.

Hawker sensed that he was weakening and, with all his effort, caught the side of O'Neill's head with a brutal blow.

Jack stumbled awkwardly backwards, cracking his head on the concrete wall, and slid down to the floor.

Hawker closed in.

The guards had heard the noises coming from the cell but, following Hawker's orders, remained where they are.

Then they heard more noise.

Jacobs was back, and this time he appeared to have brought his entire medical staff with him.

Hawker didn't know if O'Neill was breathing or not, but before he could check he heard shouting outside.

Cursing under his breath he knew he had been beaten, and decided it was time to make a run for it.

With the guards out of the way, Jacobs began running down the corridor, just in time to see Hawker leaving.

"Hawker!"

Hawker didn't look back but began running.

Jacobs reached the cell and stopped in his tracks. The scene in front of him was almost a replica of a the sickening one of a few days ago.

"No, no, no." He dashed into the cell.

"Don't do this to me." He knelt down beside the prone form and, hands shaking, felt for a pulse. For a moment there seemed to be nothing, but then his fingers found a faint thready trace. Then another. "Thank you."

Two of his medics arrived in the cell. "Doc, what do you need?" One of them was already producing fresh pressure bandages.

"We need to get fluids into him, and I need a neck brace." Jacobs began running through his mental checklist.

They worked quickly to stabilise the stricken man and, by the time a gurney was brought down, he was ready to be moved. As they lifted him up Donaldson arrived on the scene.

"Dr Jacobs?" He stared in horror at the unconscious O'Neill. "What the hell happened?"

Jacobs pushed past him. "I'll explain later."

Donaldson caught hold of his arm. "There's something you need to know."

"I haven't got time, Major!"

"I've got new orders. Colonel O'Neill is to be released, the orders are effective immediately."

Jacobs stared at him.

Hotel security sucked big time, Maybourne thought to himself as he helped himself to the contents of the mini bar in the plush hotel suite. With an imported beer in one hand and a bag of peanuts in the other, he settled down to wait.

The wormhole was established and Hammond was ready, standing at the bottom of the ramp.

Major Carter was the first to emerge with Jonas and Teal'c bringing up the rear. Immediately her eyes tracked to Hammond and she strode down the ramp towards him.

"Sir."

Hammond gave them a brief nod. "It's good to have you back, SG1."

Carter ignored the sentiment. "Sir? Colonel O'Neill?"

"Why don't we take this to the briefing room? I believe there's some things we need to discuss."

Cassie sat by the bed tucked away in the corner of the infirmary, quietly watching him sleep.

Once news had filtered down that JAG were reopening the investigation into the death of Cadet Johnson, and that Colonel O'Neill would be freed pending the review, Janet had immediately arranged for his transfer back to the SGC.

Jacobs had personally accompanied his patient back to Colorado Springs, and was granted access to the lower levels of the mountain base to make sure his charge was settled in comfortably.

Jack had yet to regain consciousness following Hawker's final attack, having sustained a fractured skull as he'd fallen against the wall. However, he'd been lucky not to have received permanent damage to his wrists, the wounds had only required considerable restitching. But, yet again, he'd lost a tremendous amount of blood.

Janet would have liked to have remained at his bedside constantly, but she had an entire infirmary to run so she left the job to her teenage daughter, who was more than happy to chatter away to her unconscious friend.

The Colonel's appearance in the infirmary had, naturally, started off the rumour mill but within hours of his arrival another piece of news stunned the SGC to the core. Senator Kinsey had been found dead in his hotel room in the midst of a campaign run. He'd been found in the bath having cut his own wrists. At the same time as the news broke of his suicide, a disk was sent to the Washington Post. Although it was obvious that some files had been deleted, it contained enough information of rogue NID activity, and Kinsey's involvement, to keep the journalists happy for months

Janet wandered across to the bed and put a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "How's it going, Cass?"

Cassie gave a small smile. "Is he going to be alright?"

Janet looked at her unconscious friend. He was still deathly pale and dark circles ringed his eyes. "He's doing okay, sweetheart. He'll wake up in his own time, when he's ready."

"Janet?" They were interrupted by a voice and both turned to look behind them to find Sam, Teal'c and Jonas hovering.

It was a sight that Janet was so relieved to see.

Jacobs looked up in amusement as Gunny was marched into the infirmary, amusement at the tough guy image he portrayed and Jacob's own knowledge that it was all a front.

"How's the head?" He waved the guards away, and examined the nicely healing wound on the back of Gunny's head. "Any headaches?"

Gunny pulled away and shook his head. "I'm good, Doc. Is that why you pulled me up here?"

Jacobs sighed and sat down on the edge of a gurney. "No, it's not." He hesitated. "I thought you might like to know how Jack was doing?"

And smiled to himself at the concern he saw in Gunny's eyes at the mention of the Colonel's name.

It was the middle of the night, and Teal'c was at Jack's bedside when he detected movement.

Bringing himself out of Kel'no'reem he found Jack's eyes were open, and he was looking around, albeit with a confused expression on his face.

"O'Neill."

Jack turned his head slightly to look at him. "Teal'c?" His voice was barely a whisper. "S . . . G . . . C?"

Before Teal'c could answer, Janet appeared at the bedside.

"Colonel?" She was smiling as she checked the monitors. "Welcome back, sir."

"What happened?" He tried to lift his head up, and it obviously caused him a great deal of pain.

Janet gently pushed him back down onto the pillows. "You suffered a serious head injury so I need to you lie still for a while. Get some more rest and then we'll talk."

He gave a small nod and closed his eyes.

He spent a further four days in the infirmary before being released into the care of his team, who wrapped him up in the proverbial cotton wool and took him home.

They were worried about him, he knew that, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it.

Sitting up on his viewing platform savouring the cold, crisp autumn air, wrapped in the blanket that Sam had insisted he take up with him, he lost himself in the events of the past few weeks.

Christ, it was mess. Even though everyone had assured him that it was only a matter of time before the charges were officially dropped, he couldn't shake the fact that a young man had died. He could handle everything else that happened, tuck it away in the back of his mind, he had good experience at that. But Cadet Johnson was different. It was going to take time for him to come to terms with the fatal consequences of Kinsey's plot.

He'd had a long talk with Janet who had explained about the drug that had robbed him of his self control, and how that had led to his assault on Cadet Johnson. She had also explained how Warner had murdered the unconscious cadet, and was now awaiting trial on second degree murder charges after turning State's Evidence to help in the gathering of evidence against the deceased Kinsey.

Despite that, it was painful to think that because someone hated _him, _an innocent young man had died.

He had thanked Janet, and the General, knowing that he owed them a tremendous debt for their belief in him. Without their tireless work he would have been facing a lifetime behind bars – or worse. And he shuddered at the thought.

As for Maybourne, he'd disappeared again.

Gunny couldn't remember that last time that he'd had a visitor but he did know that you didn't usually get a private room. Escorted into the room, he was more than a little surprised to find it empty, and that the guards left him alone. And unshackled.

A couple of minutes later the door opened again and Gunny's jaw dropped as Jack entered the room.

"Jack!" Gunny was more than relieved to see Jack in the flesh. Jacobs have been giving him updates, but it was great to see him for himself.

Jack smiled. "Hey, Gunny."

Gunny shook his head. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought that you would be sick of this place."

Jack shrugged. "Spookily, that's what my team said." He took a seat. "I just wanted to check you were okay."

Gunny grinned, touched by the older man's concern. "I'm fine." He sat down opposite him. "Actually, it seems a hell of a lot quieter without you around. Even Jacobs is complaining." He stopped smiling, getting serious. "You _are_ alright, aren't you?"

He could see lines of pain round the eyes and mouth, and there was no doubt that the Colonel was thinner than would strictly be called healthy for a man of his build. But there was also no denying the glint in his eyes, and his genuine smile, as he said, "Yeah, Gunny, I'm fine. My team are mothering me. In fact," he looked at his watch, "this is the longest time I've been out of their sight since I left here." He sighed deeply. "I want you to know that despite our first little misunderstanding, I'm in your debt. If you hadn't come up trumps with Neumann, well . . . I probably wouldn't be here now."

Gunny tried to shrug it off. "It was nothing, Jack. Neumann was an ass, and I enjoyed calling him on it."

"Yeah, well …it meant a lot to me." Jack scrubbed his hand through his hair. "And I wanted you to know that if you need anything . . . " He left the words unsaid but they both knew the meaning.

Gunny grinned again. "Well, not right now I don't, but when I get out . . ." He paused, unsure how far to push this. Jack was, after all, still a Colonel in the Air Force. Gunny was a disgraced Master Sergeant with a dishonourable discharge and a prison record.

Jack looked round the room, "You'll want to head away from here as fast as you can. Somewhere outdoors. With wide open spaces . . ." He watched Gunny to see how he was doing. For all he knew Gunny was the mountain climbing sort, or a boating enthusiast, or . . . well, any number of things that weren't close to Jack's heart. But, somehow, he didn't think he'd misjudged his man.

"Yeah," Gunny agreed. "And a great big lake, where the bass grow _this _big." He gestured with his arms in the time honoured way of all fishermen, and Jack knew he'd been right.

Their eyes met with mutually recognised enthusiasm, and Jack said, "I have a cabin, by a lake. A wonderfully relaxing place. Miles from anywhere. I go when I can. My team hate fishing."

"More fools them." They smiled.

"Yeah. It's the perfect place to get away from it all." Jack said seriously. And added, "Start over."

And Gunny felt a choked feeling he hadn't felt in years.

And without any words it was agreed.

Some time later, when the guards came back, they found two friends in the middle of a heated debate about fishing.

The End.


End file.
